


"And death shall have no dominion"

by AzureAngel2



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:35:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureAngel2/pseuds/AzureAngel2
Summary: Sequel to "Rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light"





	1. Prologue

In the early morning light the Citadel tower seemed unreal. Its entire metal façade was glittering as if someone had sprinkled fairy dust all over it. This way the military building looked more like the enchanted abode of a princess, ready for the rescue. But there was no dragon to be slain. Nor a brier hedge to overcome. There was only a strict time schedule to follow. Some acts of diversionary tactics also needed to be displayed.

Chess, an ancient strategy game, had only three rules. They said, _“Carefully, carefully, carefully.”_

The Emperor was certainly nobody to trifle with. Especially, when it was about his personal belongings.

_“I am not afraid.”_ Orson Krennic smiled to himself, while quoting these words from memory. They originated from his old fairy tale book, that he used to have back on Chandrila as a child. _“I must go and see this Sleeping Beauty.”_

A squad of Coastal defender stormtroopers, more commonly known as shoretroopers, came marching towards him. He neither slowed down or showed great haste. Walking as casual as possible under the circumstances, he met the men in the middle of the square.

Their leader, recognizable via his sand blue stripe that went along the top of his chest plates and onto the top of his shoulder guard, held up a hand. He came to a halt and so did the soldiers.

“Pete,” the masked man greeted Orson Krennic. “Long time no see!”

“Trouble on top of the circus again.”

“If you cannot fix that, nobody can.”

Against Imperial protocol they gave each other a high five.

“Smell you later, Daggett!” Orson Krennic laughed.

“Put some cans of Corellian ale for us in the fridge, would you,” replied the squad leader. “Field exercise makes us thirsty.”

“I'll do my best.”

Grinning, Orson Krennic moved on, trying not to tread with the dignity and purpose of an Imperial officer. Instead he walked like the farm boy that he used to be a life time ago.

To the military staff of this base he was not the Director of the Advanced Weapons Research division. Nor was he the architect behind the local Imperial security complex. He was simply Pete Rayburn, a radar technician. An alter ego, on which he had carefully worked on the past four years. It came with a foolproof disguise. A false beard, a dark-brown wig, spectacles and coloured contact lenses.

Nobody here on Scarif had ever questioned him. He had joined the men at the cantina tables, had used their rest rooms and showers side by side. Off-duty he had played guitar and had sung the songs of their home worlds with them.

It made Orson Krennic sad, that he would need to betray his comrades within the next hour. They were good men, loyal to the Empire and less posh than the wowsers that Tarkin gathered around him all the time. Folk like Admiral Conan Antonio Motti and General Cassio Tagge would never know how to relax themselves with a drink at the beach. Or how to fry a lobster above a fire pit.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a movement in the undergrowth. An ugly visage showed itself and revealed a yellowish grin. He knew for certain that it was the Lasat who belonged to Saw Gerrera's partisans. That vile creature had mercilessly executed Alexsandr's entire platoon on Onderon. Luckily, it had left the able ISB agent alive.

Orson Krennic knew that his friend would not agree with his plans for today. But they were based on a simple fact.

In a galaxy too vast to reign properly, children were able to get lost without a trace. Even those who were stored up for safe keeping like Chandrilan grappaberries in a jam jar. That madness would end today.

To enter the building was not an obstacle for him.

“Need help with that bag, Pete?” asked the serving officer straight away. He was a normal stormtrooper and guarded the elevators.

Orson Krennic looked for the man's ID number. “Nay, Trevor. You would not want to go up there. It is a bit spooky, to be honest. Them spiders weave pretty big nets so close to the dish.”

Laughing, the stormtrooper let him enter the main lift that went straight up to the top.

But Orson Krennic did not stay there for long. After a small detour he was inside the secret chamber that the Emperor had wished for straight after the death of his one and only niece.

He walked straight up to a large clone tank and flattened his nose against its glass. A human being, barely five years old, was slumbering inside. It wore the much younger version of a face that had been dear to him for more than forty years.

“Hello there, sleepy head.” His lips kissed the cool glass, leaving stains. “Time to _wakey-wakey_!”

But Sleeping Beauty would not open her eyes and smile at him. To wake her up would require a bit more of work from his side.

He checked his chrono and realized that he had exactly forty minutes left. Then Saw Gerrera would set hell loose on the beaches of Scarif. Around that time he hoped to be far away with his precious ward.


	2. Chapter 2

My lungs are on fire. Every breath that I make hurts a thousand fold. Yet there is a voice speaking to me. It's male. _“Breathe!”_ it says, more plea than command.

My entire body convulses like it does sometimes during the electrotherapy sessions.

_“Just breathe!”_ The voice is patient, yet determined. _“Now!”_

For some reason I can smell the ocean. There is also the briny stink of sleaze and fish guts.

Then there are fingers, their touch so familiar. Hands start holding me, offering just love and acceptance.

“It's but a bad dream, Cassie!” another voice, quite different from the first one, announces. “Nobody will harm you on my guard. I promise.”

I taste tears and I am not sure whether they are mine or his.

Dry lips touch my hot brow.

“Please, make an effort here!” There is a considerate pause. “Or I'll tickle you senseless. The Empire has no mercy on little girls who show no commitment.”

I pry my eyes open.

In the twilight of the Coruscant night I can see the outlines of my personal guardian angel. Daddy.

“Back,” I slur, because now and again my facial muscles have a relapse. This is how the speech-language therapist refers to it.

“Sure?” Daddy asks and gently cups the left side of my face.

I nod.

“You will get better, Cassie. I promise.” There is steely determination in his voice. “This is just a phase. It will pass. Darkness always makes way for the light.”

The bedside lamp flashes on, sending soft blue glow into my bed room. We just have eye-friendly light sources in our Coruscanti flat. My eyes are photo-phobic since I am back from the hospital. That was about six months ago.

“Let's have a blue milk together,” Daddy suggests. Barefoot and in his army underpants only he leaves my bedroom.

I remain where I am.

Even with my eyes open, I can still see the island. A rocky pyramid that emerges out of a dark blue sea. Each time I visit it in my dreams, a sense of solitude overwhelms me and I do not know why that is.

Sometimes I find myself in a rather different setting though. Then there is a lush, green meadow sprinkled with pretty flowers. Beyond its borders, shining waterfalls spill into a lake. There is also a man with copper red hair. His cheekbones are chiselled on a somewhat feline face. He always smiles at me. And his eyes have the colour of the sky above, where puffy clouds move by.

One time I asked Daddy if we know any people with red hair and he looked rather startled. I swore myself never to ask him again. Normally, he is brave and fearless. Because he is one of the good guys, he wears white like an Imperial Stormtrooper. His uniform even has a long cape, which I adore very much. If he is gone on a longer trip through space, he always leaves a spare cape behind. I am allowed to use it as a blanket at night, if I miss him too much.

“Cassie?”

Daddy is back, holding two mugs in front of him. They both bear the Imperial crest.

“I made myself a Blue Milk Latte,” he states somewhat shyly. “I hope you don't mind.”

I shake my head.

He is a coffee addict. And there is nothing that I can do about it. At least he has stopped smoking since I came to live with him. He is so brave.

While I take my mug from him, a shadow falls on his face. I know why that is. Two days ago my fingers went limp all of a sudden and I made quite a mess. This time nothing happens.

“Cheerio, little soldier!” Daddy says, relief written in his eyes.

“Cheerio!” I echo.

He winks at me.

Together we start drinking.

When Daddy notices that my mug is empty, he puts it on the night stand. “You should get some sleep now. The physiotherapist will be here at 9 am sharp. I won't be able to do home office today. But I won't be gone for long.”

I bite my lip, try to be a big girl. Somebody he can be proud of.

Daddy serves the Empire with dedication. It is egoistic of me to demand more quality time with him. Not only can he build beautiful orbs that hang in space. Occasionally, he saves children like Jyn Erso from bad people.

“But tonight I'll stay on until you are asleep again,” he adds, after having me eyed intensely. Then he laughs, loud and warm.

I giggle, while he lifts my blanket. His body is unbelievingly warm. But then again, I am always cold and it is not the blue milk to blame for.

“Song or story?” Daddy asks.

This is a difficult decision to make. He is good at both.

I snuggle up against him. “A story, please.”

_“Once upon a time there was a little squall.”_ He starts to stroke my hair. _“With his family of five, Mommy Squall, Daddy Squall and three siblings, he lived Together in a cosy cave. It lay right underneath the soft balmgrass that covered most of Chandrila's surface. All was well. His family had enough to eat and were not threatened by predators. There was only peace and the beauty of scenery. But the little squall was a curious beastie. A bird had told him about the Crystal Canyons. Those seemed to be an enormous gallery of natural formations made out of rock and crystals...”_

Even though I have an idea where this story is going, I let him speak on. His voice always makes me feel secure, even when he is on the other side of the galaxy.

No matter how busy Daddy is, he always takes the time to give me a HoloNet call. If he is gone for more than two days, he has Uncle Alex check on me. And of course there is always Mary, an MV Nanny droid. The Child Protective Services insisted on the latter.

_“… And then Mammy Squall gave the little squall a big hug. He promised her to never run off again on his own. And they all lived happily ever after.”_

Sometimes I think that Daddy is afraid to lose me. But why should I wander off? I love him very much.

We have a beautiful flat close to the Coruscant sky. I am allowed to lay out a garden on our veranda once I am better again.

Apart from the speech therapy, my arms and legs still need a lot of stimulation and exercises. It has something to do with what my mother did or did not do. I am not sure about it. When I overheard the doctors in the hospital, they said that my muscles were withered. And that is a miracle, that I had survived living with an addict for so many years.

I must confess that I do not remember my mother. Nor her addiction. Not even the flat we have lived in on Level 2685.

My first real memory is that of Daddy asking me to breathe properly like the man in my dreams does, each time I see him.

“Try to sleep now!” he begs me. “Do not overheat your brain!”

I snort. “I am not a robot.”

“Otherwise I could shut your energy down more successfully.” He blows a kiss against my right cheek. “3PO unit protocol droids have a switch like that.”

“Are you going to Eriadu?” I want to know.

“You mean Eadu, where the rainy days never end,” he corrects me. “Eriadu is the home of a crazy old monster.”

“Really?” My eyes almost bulge out of their sockets.

“He likes to steal from others. Ideas, honour, fun. But do not worry, Cassie! I'll keep you safe from Tarkin.”

That name is unknown to me and yet it sends shivers down my spine. “Why is he a monster?”

Daddy tenses. I seem to have asked the wrong question. “Because he can,” he snarls.

“Are you mad with me?”

Kisses rain down on my head. “Nonsense. I am just angry with myself. To talk about monsters is like to conjure them. Somebody wise once told me that saying a name carries a lot of power with it.”

I rub the back of my head against his broad chest. “Who?”

“A very nice _kindie_ teacher.” His voice has a dreamy quality to it. “She always said the most amazing things. The story that I told you earlier on was one of hers. She always made up stories.”

“What about?”

“All kind of stuff. Fools and wise men. Political dramas and palace romances. Magic knights and power crystals.”

“She sounds nice,” I offer carefully.

Daddy sighs. “I wish the two of you could have met.”

“Are you not friends any more?” I wonder.

“Oh Cassie!”

It takes me some heartbeats to realize that he is crying. This is the second time tonight. I turn around to face him, frame his cheeks with my fingers. “Don't be sad, Daddy!”

He crushes me against him. “How can I be sad when I have you?” he sniffs. “You are so wonderful.”

“But I make you cry,” I say.

“Sometimes you remind me so much of her that it hurts. But it also gives me joy.” Daddy softens his embrace. “People are never really gone from our lives. They leave imprints behind. Imprints of love, in the best cases. Ina was such a special person.”

That name sounds beautiful and coming from his lips, it makes me feel happy. I don't know why that is.

“You are also special, Cassie. Actually, you are more than I could ever hope for.”

********************************************************************

When I wake up, Daddy is gone. But he has placed his favourite woollen scarf on the night stand. It smells nicely of his aftershave.

With a whoop of joy, I start to loop the scarf around my throat. Not too tight, though.

“Mistress Cassandra,” says Mary and rolls up towards me. “I am glad to see you awake and well. Master Orson did not want to disturb you. He ordered me to tell you that he loves you very much. More than Wookie cookies.”

My heart starts to beat faster.

“Not that Wookie cookies are very healthy,” the MV Nanny droid adds for consideration.

“What's for breakfast?” I throw in quickly, before she is able to hold a long speech to me.

Not every child gets breakfast in bed. I am aware of that. This is all due to my special health condition. But I will get stronger and more independent soon. I long to explore the apartment all on my own, to stop wearing a nappy like some baby.

There are wonderful museums here on Coruscant and public parks. I want to visit them hand-in-hand with Daddy. Perhaps he even makes up his mind about the Imperial palace. He claims there is nothing of interest to see there apart from old men running the show.

I would like to get introduced to our beloved Emperor. The HoloNet News show him as a nice, elderly gentleman. Somebody who could be my favourite uncle, if I had one.

Sadly, Daddy never had any siblings. His mother is already dead, but his father is still alive. This is all I know. Which makes me unbelievingly sad. Family members should love one another. And it would be nice to have a grandfather in my life.

There is of course Uncle Alex. He is not a real relative, but a colleague of Daddy and my appointed godfather. I like his sideburns. They are sort of cute. And they tickle when I kiss him. He does not like physical contact overly much, unless it is me seeking it.

Around me he takes his ugly ISB combat helmet off. He has such wonderful hair underneath it. It is strawberry-blond. He is dressed in grey tones and wears a cuirass all the time. I bet he even sleeps with his armour on.

Once Daddy told me that Imperials in grey-green and olive-green are not so important. From his point of view I have to watch out for people dressed in grey-blue for they are with the Imperial Press Corps. A curious and annoying bunch. The worst guys though are those in black, he taught me. That includes his batch of six personal body guards. DT-L21 is one of them. Since I soiled my pants that particular soldier has a ban on entering our apartment unless I am in real danger.

“Are you ready for your morning toilet?” Mary asks, her electronic eyes resting on me.

“You mean morning wash?” I correct her.

She makes an annoyed bleep as only a robot can. “You are a lady and those have a morning toilet.”

I know that it is important for Daddy that I have a flawless upbringing and lack of nothing. But he should reconsider the programming of our MV Nanny droid. A caretaker should be more fun and not a walking rule book. Plus she should sing more and know magical tricks.

Mary tosses off my duvet and lifts me straight up into her mechanical embrace.

I do respect her but she is not able to do all those wonderful things that Daddy is able to do. He can stick a pencil up his nose and pull it out the side of his head. He can make a ring defy gravity by rising up a string. He can remove his pinkie and put it back again. He can turn water into ice as it pours. He can find a hidden card in a deck.

Wistfully, I look at the HoloPic on my night stand. It shows Daddy in civilian clothing, standing in a sea of grass. His smile is wide and relaxed. The pic is about six years old. I wonder who took it and where exactly.

“Ready when you are,” the MV Nanny droid lets me know.

“Ready,” I give back.

********************************************************************

It takes us twenty minutes to go through the washing procedure together. My belly grumbles all the way.

Of course Mary is careful and tender. Her programming is thorough. But she does not tickle me or say something endearing. She just does her work as if I am a piece of floor to clean.

“Thank you,” I say anyway, because Daddy tells me to be polite, even when I am annoyed with somebody.

He has a problem to keep his temper in. Not only Uncle Alex says that about him, he knows himself. They do quarrel a lot, when they are in one room. Words fly forth and back, mostly hissed so low that I cannot hear from my bedroom what is said between them. Sometimes items sail through the air, too. I hear things break. But there is no true reason for concern. Later on they shake hands and have a big glass of Corellian whiskey together. I guess that is their way to show each other respect and appreciation.

Mary rolls in with my breakfast. “Pana cakes,” she tuts. “I wish the master would be more reasonable.”

I find it very reasonable that Daddy created a smiley face with syrup. Eager to taste his masterpiece, I reach for the fork and the knife, but my MV Nanny droid holds me back.

“Not so fast, Mistress Cassandra. A prayer on behalf of Shiraya please.”

Why I should thank a Naboo moon goddess for my breakfast is a miracle to me, but I do as I am asked. A soldier must follow orders. The life and well-being of others depend on it. That what Daddy always tells me.

“For health and strength and daily food  
we praise your name, Shiraya.”

While I pray, Mary cuts the pana cake for me and the smiley face vanishes. The Greel-wood syrup from Lothal goes runny all over the plate. I cherish every bite I take anyway.

Daddy does great pana cakes. They contain bantha butter and carbosyrup. His secret ingredient is love though. And he has more unlimited stock of it.

********************************************************************

Appointments with my physiotherapist, a Tholothian woman named Jena Billilo, are always a highlight for me. It can be pretty exhausting, frustrating even, but in the end I can always be proud of myself. She always finds ways to motivate me.

Her indigo-coloured eyes sparkle when she packs her bag after one-and-a-half hours with me. “Well done, Cassandra.” She has this amazing smile and is always positive. “If you continue like this, you will be able to leave the bed all by yourself in two or three standard weeks.”

Daddy's birthday will be around that time. This I know from Uncle Alex. It is his duty to know everything about everybody within our Empire. This, he claims, makes it easier to separate the good guys from the bad ones.

Nervously, I look at my hands. “Are there many children like me?”

Her smile wanes and her eyes turn sad. “Each child that I treat is different from the others. Its story stands on its own.”

She misunderstands my question. “I mean, would… would… there be a chance meeting… meeting the other children that you treat?” I rephrase.

In front of my bed, she kneels down in order to be at eye level with me. “I only do house visits, because the parents of my little clients wish me to do so. This also saves me money for the rent of a doctor's surgery.”

My heart sinks.

“But if you feel lonely, Cassandra, you could talk to your social worker about it. Arrangements can always be made.”

I nod, but I swear not to let the 'damned authorities' as Daddy calls them, know.

Even though my adoption went through effortlessly, the Child Protective Services like to send someone to check on me occasionally. Daddy is devastated each time, always fearing that I am taken from him. As an Imperial officer and member of the engineer corps he leads a busy life. He has to serve four masters: the Emperor, science, architecture and the military. But he gives his best to be there for me. For that I love him even more.

Mary appears, ready to see Jena Billilo out and lock the door behind the alien. There are times when I feel like the Lovely-Haired Raavané, a famous Naboo fairy tale figure. She was forced to live on a secluded lake island.

Not that Daddy holds me prisoner. Or puts pressure on me in any way. He is just worried for my well-being. So is Uncle Alex, who has to crawl into the greatest sink-holes in his line of work. Turncoats and backstabbers like to hide in such hostile environments, I was told.

Even without his stories I am aware that Coruscant has shadow sides, but I do not necessarily want to seek those places out. It is just that lying in bed all day long, unless one of my many therapists pays me a visit or I am carried onto the patio, is not enough for me. I want to be among people, would like to seek out places like a public library or an art gallery. The HoloNet is useful, but not the real thing.

“Mary,” I beg my MV Nanny droid. “Please carry me to the door!”

If her robot face would be able to show an emotion such as astonishment, she would display it right now. “This is highly irregular!”

Jena Billilo claps her hands together. “Wonderful, the girl wants to leave her bed. Come on! Let us support her, silver slide!”

“Pardon me?” Mary asks back.

Before the MV Nanny droid can hinder her, my physiotherapist picks me up and carries me out of my bedroom. The long, fleshy tendrils of her headdress bounce up and down with every determined step.

When she turns around a corner, she stares straight into Daddy's face. He is wearing his white Imperial Military Uniform and his black leather gloves that always scare me.

“And where do you think you might be going with my daughter, Miss Billilo?” he commands to know in his strictest tone, peeling the gloves off and stuffing them into his belt.

“Cassandra is my last patient for today, because I am going home for the Festival of Stars,” she says.

“Which does not automatically explain why you are loitering around the entrance area with her in your arms.” His eyes are slits, his gaze guarded. “Is this by any means an attempted kidnapping?”

Jena Billilo laughs out loud, a bright, melodious sound. Then she falls abruptly still and looks at me. “Would you like to show your father what we did today?”

I bite my underlip.

“Perhaps in the hallway?” She winks at me. “Minus the bars?”

Seeing how confused he is, I reach out for him and caress his right cheek. “It's okay, Daddy.”

Under my hopeful gaze he melts away like a piece of bantha butter in the sun. “Permission granted, little soldier,” he whispers. “Make your commanding officer proud!”

I salute to him and while I do, I can see tears glittering in the corner of his eyes. They freely start to flow, when my physiotherapist sets me on the floor and I start walking towards our entrance door. I need the wall to support me and I walk slowly, but I walk on my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> The JC fanfic story “Three strands” (OCs; one-shot; OTP Fairy Tale Challenge, belated; various original pairings) by Findswoman  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	3. Chapter 3

The hover chair is not such a bummer, because Daddy walks proudly behind me. It's a nice, sunny day outside. We are at the Nova level. I am wearing a pair of special sunglasses and a cap that barely hides my ginger hair. It is not my real hair colour, but I agreed to it weeks ago.

“Are we incognito like Uncle Alex sometimes is?” I say with a hushed voice.

“Something like that.”

“It's fun, Daddy.”

I manage to tilt my head back to look at Daddy. He is in his civvies and has put on a false moustache and glasses.

“Then we will do it more often in future, Cassie dear,” he promises and he never makes promises if he is not sure that he can keep them.

Before we had gone out, Daddy had held my hand for a while, telling me the latest news about the Jyn Erso girl. Last week an infamous terrorist had snatched her away from her loving father. This had happened on a planet called Lah'mu. The entire family had been on hiatus there.

My fingers cramp around the arm rests of my hover chair.

I am not certainly not going to be kidnapped by some mad man, whose only aim is to hurt Daddy. Nobody ever will turn me into a plaything or worse.

And right now, I am on my way to an ice crème parlour with Daddy and we are going to have fun.

********************************************************************

When we reach our destination, my hands fly to my mouth. This is not the promised ice crème parlour. This is much, much better. We are outside a building that I have seen before on the HoloNet. It used to be the Library of the Republic.

“Daddy!” I shriek in delight. “Oh thank you, Daddy!”

His laughter is warmer than the sunshine all around us. “Since you can manage to hold a data pad in your hands again, you have read all the novels in our house library. Your reading speed and comprehension is breathtaking, my dear. This is why I thought we would get you your own account with the local library.” He winks at me. “I'd rather have you using the official channels than uploading anything illegal from the net.”

“Oh, Daddy,” I whisper with happy tears in my eyes.

He walks around the hover chair to face me. “Besides, now that my little bird is fledging, I need to let go of her much more.” Very slowly he sinks down on his heels until we are at eye level. “There is an old saying on Chandrila: _If you love something set it free. If it comes back it's yours. If not, it was never meant to be._ ”

Not sure what to say, I open my arms and he places his head in my lap.

“I am so proud of you, Cassie. Within one year you made so much progress. Miss Billilo and all your other therapists are amazed. So am I. You are a miracle. My miracle.”

I want to tell him that I will always be his. There can be no better father in the entire universe than him, but he gets up suddenly.

“You know what, I should do this as your father and not under the camouflage of Pete Rayburn. It is better to live freely than fear for your safety all the time. Alex is right. I can do better.” He gives me a haunted look that almost breaks my heart. “If you'll excuse me, Cassie dear, I need a moment.”

Puzzled, I watch him storm into a nearby public toilet.

Uncle Alex once hinted that Daddy lost a woman very dear to him. That loss, and I guess it was Ina, would have made him rather paranoid.

When I had asked the MV Nanny droid what 'paranoid' meant, Mary had the following answer, “Paranoia is an instinct or thought process believed to be heavily influenced by anxiety or fear, often to the point of delusion and irrationality.”

All that I know is that Daddy is 'disillusioned'. He hardly ever gets any recognition for his 'achievements', as he refers to them. Instead he has a lot of enemies who begrudge him for the beautiful things he is able to build – his huge space station, the military complex on Scarif or the Emperor's new palace here on Coruscant. It is a secret that he is the architect behind all those projects. Uncle Alex claims that certain individuals would hate him even more if his involvement ever got out. And so other engineers – such as Raith Sienar, Bevel Lemelisk and Umak Leth – get praised instead.

I cannot help my poor father to get the fame and recognition that he deserves, but I can be the good daughter he needs me to be. His little sunshine. He seems so lost and heartbroken at times.

Patiently, I wait for him to come out of the public toilet again. It has been two minutes now.

“Are you lost, little girl?” asks a cool voice next to me. “Can I be of any assistance to you?”

I gaze up at a man dressed in a white uniform like Daddy, minus the cape that is. His skin is midnight-blue while his intense eyes are a sea of crimson. By instinct I salute to him, “No, sir. But thanks for asking, sir. You can move along, sir.”

A smile appears on his lips, while the red eyes twinkle. “At ease, soldier.” He takes me in like a person getting lost in a painting for he is scanning for details so hard. “With whom I might have the honour?”

“Cassandra Morrígain Krennic,” I answer truthfully. “At your service.”

I do not ask him who he is for I already have an idea who he might be. There is but one blue skinned alien in the Imperial navy.

********************************************************************

Commodore Thrawn kneels down in front of me, surprise written all over his alien features. “Are you by any chance related to a certain Director Krennic?”

“Orson Callan Krennic is my father, sir” I beam. “And you must be the famous Chiss who serves our beloved Emperor.”

“Chiss?” he considers, his eyes turn into slits. This way he reminds me of a tokken. Ready to devour a small rodent. “I could be a Pantoran.”

“You could never be, sir,” I clip out. “Though it is a common mistake that most people would make.”

“But you wouldn't.”

“Daddy sometimes speaks about your bravery in battle, sir, and this made me do some research,” I admit, blushing slightly for the opposite is the case. The name Thrawn is a swear word in our household. “You are from a planet in the Unknown Regions that is called Csilla.”

“So young and a keen spy already?” The tall Chiss lifts an eyebrow and I wonder if he can see right through me and detect my white lie. “I do hope you did not find out about my call sign or tax number yet.”

“No, sir.” I am shocked. “Uncle Alex, I mean Agent Kallus, is an ISB officer. He would know about such things. But I am only six years old.”

“Which is hard to believe.” With no warning Commodore Thrawn nudges my nose. “You could be a jawa in disguise. Or a shaved Ewok girl in humanoid clothing.”

“What are Ewoks, sir?” I wonder.

“Small, furry creatures from a forest moon in the Outer Rim Territory. They look cute and harmless, but should not be underestimated as cunning warriors. I told the commander of the base, but this man is too daft to listen to reason.” He winks at me. “I hope he will at least remember my warning the day the Ewoks attack him with their spears and stone slings.”

“Stormtrooper uniforms are not really made for such combat forms, are they, sir?” I suggest.

“They are not.” The Chiss shakes his head. “Mistress Krennic, you have other wonderful talents and traits.” He ponders shortly. “May I ask you something personal? Even though I should not.”

“Why, sir?”

“In my culture it is greatly frowned upon to ask questions and to talk about oneself.”

“Just go ahead, sir,” I assure him. “She'll be apples.”

He frowns.

“In the Chandrilan country side this means that something is okay, sir.”

Now he looks even more confused.

“Daddy grew up on a fruit farm, sir.”

“That explains a lot,” the Chiss says more to himself than to me. Then his eyes zoom in on me. “Do you like art?”

To that I nod eagerly and state, “I simply love Corellian flame miniatures, sir.”

“Why?”

“Those pink lights are pretty, sir. They keep the nightmares from me. Therefore Daddy installed dozens of holographic images of them in my room. Right above my bed. They burn the entire night.”

That seems to please Commodore Thrawn immensely. “What other art forms are to your liking, Mistress Krennic?”

This I can answer straight away. “Paintings and statues in the classical Naboo style, sir. They make me feel like a fairy tale princess walking through her realm. I especially like effigies of Shiraya.” Quickly, I add. “She is the moon goddess.”

“Ah, the winged, female humanoid brandishing a crescent moon-shaped symbol.” He crooks his head. “Are you very religious?”

“No, sir, but my dad asks me to say grace in her name. And address the evening prayer to her. See, he lost somebody dear to him, a couple of years ago. Ina was a follower of Shiraya. This way he wants to honour her, I suppose.”

Commodore Thrawn flashes me a grin. “Are there any more art movements or artworks that you like?” he asks after some anxious heartbeats of mine.

“Alderaanian grass paintings, sir. They are so vibrant.” My voice drops. “I asked Uncle Alex, I mean Agent Kallus, to bring me some grass seeds from Lothal. But he keeps forgetting it.”

“Why Lothal?”

“Oh, he had some missions there of late, sir. I am not sure if you are familiar with the planet. It is in the Outer Rim like that moon you mentioned earlier on.”

Instead of answering my question, Commodore Thrawn bows slightly. “You just made my day, Mistress Krennic. I hope you realize that.”

Not sure what he means, I blink at him.

“You are a wonderful and bright girl. It is a true honour to have made your acquaintance.” In one fluid movement, he kneels down and reaches out for my right hand. “From now on, you may call me Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Only family and close friends are allowed to use that name.”

“I am Cassandra, Mitth'raw'nuruodo,” I pipe up as we exchange a firm handshake. His skin is cool and hot alike.

“You pronounced it correctly,” he praises me. “That does not happen very often when humans try to speak Cheunh.”

“It is a beautiful tongue,” I smile.

“My people prefer to use Minnisiat and Sy Bisti when dealing with your race.”

“They should not. Language is a piece of home.”

“Rightly said.”

“Pardon me for asking, but you do not seem confident with Basic, even though you speak it fluently.”

He rises to his full height again. “You are an acute observer.”

“Cassie?” somebody calls out in terror.

“Ah, there comes your father,” Commodore Thrawn announces with some regret in his voice.

********************************************************************

“It's okay, Daddy,” I call out immediately and put on an extra big smile. “The Commodore and I were just talking.”

Daddy, not wearing his disguise any longer, looks awfully stricken. “Thrawn,” he speaks hoarsely as he saunters closer in his civvies.

“Director Krennic,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo replies in return and gives him a curt military nod. “I had the honour to get acquainted with your lovely daughter Cassandra.”

“Did you now. _Ace!_ ” Daddy's composure is tense. His gaze could cut through Durasteel. “I hope you made none of your usual evaluations here. She is not an enemy of the state, but an innocent six year old. Nothing like the pirate scum you hunt.”

The Chiss does not shrink back from the acid sarcasm, but even takes a step closer. Their noses almost touch for they have the same height.

“I can assure you that I have treated Cassandra for what she is, Director Krennic. As the daughter of a high ranking Imperial officer and as a fellow art lover.”

“Really? I am just taking a pi… erm, pee and in the meantime you are able to perform a full brain scan on my child.”

Daddy gives me an apologetic look. Not because he almost said a bad word, but because we both know that he is lying to Mitth'raw'nuruodo. The skin under his nose, where the false moustache has been, is still slightly red.

The Chiss tilts his head, looking directly at me. “Let me pay for Cassandra's library pass to make up for my congenital curiosity.”

“All children below twelve years of age are free of charges,” Daddy prompts somewhat triumphantly.

“Then let me invite the two of you to an ice cream after visiting the Coruscant Intergalactic Art Gallery.”

“Hey, when was this offer made?” Daddy protests.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo smirks. “Just now, Director Krennic. For Lord Vader and Governor Tarkin will be visiting the library today.”

Daddy cannot help paling.

“They want to inaugurate the section of military books for school children and somehow I have the feeling that you do not want to run into them. Your daughter is home-schooled, I presume?”

Daddy mumbles something inaudible.

“Just as I thought, seeing her condition.”

“It's not a condition,” Daddy bellows. “It's _myasthenia_ if you have to know.”

“I do not,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo says aloof. “But the guests of honour are due in ten minutes sharp and I know for myself that the service desk is slow when it comes to register a new library user.”

Just last night I have heard the name Tarkin for the very first time. Back then Daddy had referred to him as a 'crazy old monster'. I had imagined some ogre in a castle, feeding off children like me.

This Lord Vader sounds interesting though. He seems to be a noble man from the Imperial court. A prince perhaps. He even might be a close friend of our beloved Emperor Palpatine.

But I will never find out who Lord Vader is, because it seems that I will not be the proud owner of a library card. Not today anyway. Daddy already steers my wheel chair into a different direction.

“Why would you bother with us, when you are obviously due to join Tarkin and Vader?” he hisses.

“I am still not sure if talking about my recent battles is appropriate for such young ears.” Mitth'raw'nuruodo pauses. When he speaks on, there is longing in his voice. “Your daughter reminded me that there is much more to life than the art of war.”

*******************************************************************

The Coruscant Intergalactic Art Gallery is an exempt charity. Its collection belongs to the Imperial Academy of Fine Arts. The entry to the main collection is free of charge. It is among the most visited museums in the galaxy right after the Hanna Institute of Antiquities on Chandrila, the Parnelli Museum of Art on Naboo, the Corellian Science Museum and the Alderaan Museum of Fine Arts.

I am thrilled that we start our journey in a chamber filled with objects in classical Naboo style. There are many portraits of ladies, fine jewellery, glass work and holographic displays of buildings.

“Would you like me to comment?” inquires Mitth'raw'nuruodo as politely as ever.

“Yes, please,” I reply, hoping to sound not too eager. “This is why I was against the audio tour guide just now. You can do so much better.”

“Sure,” huffs Daddy. “I bet he also does audio books with dark fairy tales from the Unknown Regions. About the Hyperspace Anomaly, brain eating parasites and ancient Rakatan Empires.”

If the Chiss is annoyed, he has enough grace not to show it openly. He goes on speaking, not even looking at Daddy. “Overall the Naboo approach to design is holistic,” he explains with an excessive hand gesture. “That means that any art object will look as if it has grown naturally. This is characterized by flowing, almost sinuous curves with smooth surfaces.”

“Oh, look at the beautiful lady over there,” I shriek with delight.

There is the sculpture of a woman, who is lying on a bed of flowers with her eyes closed. There are more flowers and little ribbons in her long hair.

Daddy seems frozen to the spot. “This can't be happening,” he mutters over and over again.

“Is this a water fairy?” Without any help by the men, I move my hover chair closer to the life-sized statue. “A Naiad?”

“No, this is a former queen of Naboo.” Noiselessly, Mitth'raw'nuruodo has stepped behind me. “Her title was Amidala, though her real name was Padmé Naberrie. She got elected at fourteen and served her people two terms. Later on she was a member of the senate here on Coruscant.”

“You said was.” My hand moves towards my fast pounding heart. “Is she dead?”

“She got assassinated during the end of the Clone Wars,” verifies the commodore. “This is a copy of her gravestone.”

Assassinated during the end of the Clone Wars.

These words sound through me like a death toll.

I swallow hard as tears start to fill my eyes.

Sorrow spreads inside me and I cannot even explain why that is.

“Can we stop right here?” pleas Daddy. There is an undertone in his voice that I can not classify. “I do not want my daughter to have nightmares.”

“Nonsense. History can not lead to nightmares,” prompts Mitth'raw'nuruodo. “Neither can a lesson in politics.”

“Amidala is no more,” Daddy bites out. “Because her political involvement always brought her into severe trouble.”

“The Emperor still talks very highly of her.”

“Yeah, I am sure he does. She was his 'parade Kaadu'. The best mount in his stable really.”

I frown.

Sometimes Daddy says the strangest things. Padmé Naberrie does not look like a beast of burden at all.

I try to distract the commodore. “Did our beloved Emperor order the stonemasons to make this sculpture in Padmé's honour?”

“No, but an unknown admirer did. The assignment was to make her look exactly like she did during her funeral.”

I look at the white marble. “The dress was blue was it not?”

“It was indeed, but how did you guess that, Cassandra?”

“Naboo love the water. The Solleu River runs through the grassy plains of the planet like a life line. And then there is the Lake Country.” I run my fingers over the marble statue, even though one is not supposed to touch things in an art gallery. Then I exclaim, “She was expecting a baby.”

“Who ever told you that?” gurgles Daddy, a hand at his throat.

“Her belly. It is huge.” I point at the statue. “The father of the child was a very big man. Or she was even expecting twins.”

“Twins. You really have a wild imagination,” Daddy tuts. Then he suddenly grins. “I wonder what you make out of the holo film sequence over there.”

As fast as he can Daddy steers my hover chair to a column that hosts a holo projector.

An amphibious humanoid with long fin-like ears hops around on thin legs and waves his somewhat lanky arms around. His dance consists only of a few basic moves.

“Meet the infamous Jar Jar Binks,” says Daddy triumphantly. “Military commander during the Invasion of Theed and later on representative in the senate. He also invented the 'Gungan Style' during a party. There was much Naboo blossom wine involved.”

Fascinated, I stare at the orange skinned alien. “Can you also dance like this, Daddy?”

“If that was the case, I would already have blown a hole right through my skull. Binks is the most ridiculous creature that ever walked the senate halls and the Naboo swamps, I am sure.”

I cross my arms, pouting on behalf of the poor politician who is not without grace. “Shame on you, Daddy. Not everybody can be a cool Loth-cat like you.”

The commodore chuckles, before saying, “I take it that you are quite a dancer, Director Krennic?”

“Believe it or not, Commodore Thrawn, I used to be a party animal. But that is history. These days I dance for my daughter's eyes only.”

My nose crinkles, as my memories of last weekend kick in. “You should tell him about the dance battle that Uncle Alex and you...”

“This is classified information,” Daddy rebukes me softly. “The commodore already knows more about us then he needs to.”

“There is no need to worry.” Mitth'raw'nuruodo looks somehow smug. “Every Imperial officer has the right to some privacy now and again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> A sentence from the JC fanfic “Ἀνάγκη – Necessity beyond Sway” by Chyntuck  
> The lyrics of the score “Duel of fates” for “Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace” by John Williams (1999)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	4. Chapter 4

Within the next chamber incense swirls like mist. Daddy starts coughing automatically.

“When have you given up smoking?” asks Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

“Not soon enough,” comes the meek reply and I decide not to speak about the water pipe that Daddy hides in his bedroom cabinet.

Strangely moved, I gaze at the burning candles. “Which world does this room represent?”

“The desert moon of Jedha,” answers Mitth'raw'nuruodo without delay.

“Jedha,” groans Daddy. “This gets from bad to worse. All my sins revisited.”

“It is kyber crystal clear to me that you are distressed.” Some triumph shows up in the blue Chiss features. “Would you like to make a confession, Director?”

“You wish,” hisses Daddy in return. “The Navy always assumes too much.”

“Where is Jedha?” I say towards the commodore.

Under the current light conditions Mitth'raw'nuruodo reminds me of a dark fairy. He is beautiful to look at.

“It is within the Terrabe sector.” Then he smiles. “But your father knows it better than I do.”

“Yeah right, you cheeky ass. Stop that, would you?”

Stop that, would yo.”

Mitth'raw'nuruodo leaves the words of Daddy uncommented and points out to a huge carpet that is adorned with geometric patterns. “This is a mandala, Cassandra. At the most basic level of appearance a mandala stays true to its name: 'circle'. Mandalas are a common sight in the community of Jedha City.”

Inside me something stirs. Words that make no sense.

_“Kor-ah, Mah-tah, Kor-ah, Rah-tah-mah._  
_Kor-ah, Rah-tah-mah. Yood-hah, Kor-ah._  
_Kor-ah, Syahd-ho. Rah-tah-mah, Daan-yah._  
_Kor-ah, Kee-lah, Daan-yah._  
_Nyo-hah, Kee-lah, Kor-ah, Rah-tah-mah._  
_Syahd-ho, Kee-la, Kor-ah, Rah-tah-mah._  
_Kor-ah, Daa-nyah. Kor-ah, Rah-tah-mah._

_Kor-ah, Daa-nyah. Kor-ah, Rah-tah-mah._  
_Nyo-hah, Kee-lah, Kor-ah, Rah-tah-mah._  
_Syahd-ho, Kee-la, Daan-yah, Rah-tah-mah. Kor-ah!”_

I try to be a brave little soldier and keep listening to the commodore without showing my confusion. The words translate to something like, _“Under the tongue root a fight most dread, and another raging, behind, in the head.”_

Mitth'raw'nuruodo smiles at me. “Within the holy city a mandala can have an enormous size. They can be draped over an embroidered cloth or hung against temple walls.”

“Wasn't that interesting?” Daddy comments dryly. “Next please!”

*****************************************************************

We are already on our way out when my gaze wanders to a row of tall cylindrical wheels. Before Daddy can hinder me, I reach out for one of the metal surfaces. Mantras in the ancient Sanskrit language are written on them.

Deep down inside me a gate opens and I can feel a tingling sensation pulsing through me.

_“Oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ,”_ I beam and start to spin the so-called 'life tree'. _“Oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ.”_

“Would you stop that!” Daddy calls out, panic lacing his words.

“But your daughter has just found out about the function of those wheels,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo praises. “Besides there a sign that specifically asks visitors like us to use the prayer mills.”

“Somebody could get hurt,” whines Daddy.

“Don't be a fool!” admonishes the commodore. “This is but an interactive gallery installation. It was put here in order to make the visitors experience culture, religion and music.”

“That is not music, laser brain! Jizz is music.”

“You have a strange idea of entertainment, Director Krennic.”

While the two men keep exchanging words like sword thrusts, I spin the wheel over and over again and sing my chant.

With closed eyes, I can see jagged rock formations. There are also narrow spires and broad plateaus that stick out of the sand crust. Suddenly, a city full of miracle and wonder appears in front of me. The streets are narrow and pretty overcrowded with pedestrians. A triangular structure towers over everything. Inside it I feel a myriad of voices. Beautiful crystals and they sing just for me.

With regret I part from the song and open my eyes.

“It is but noise, Director Krennic,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo addresses Daddy. “A shadow of anger taints his otherwise velvety voice. “Nothing more. Stop insisting otherwise.”

“Jizz is the essence of life. It can be fast and swingin' like a big band, but also wild and honkin'. Now and then it can be exotic or even slow and beautiful.”

While Daddy waves his hands about, the commodore stands erect like a hero statue. “I would prefer endodontic treatment to a jizz gig at any time.”

“What you fail to realize is that Jizz is perfect improvisation. Take Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes for example. They start with structure, with a melody and chord that the band knows. But then something much greater happens. After that they trade ideas, delve into the harmony and change it.”

“I would not connect Jizz with harmony. It is chaos.”

Suddenly, somebody else is inside the chamber and it is not one of the gallery guards. At more than two metres high, adorned in battle armour, this person is an impressive sight.

I squeal in my hover chair. “Oh!” I exclaim, while I see the long, wallowing cape.

How much I love capes! This one is not white like Daddy's though. It is black.

Yin and Yang, the idea of a perfect balance of good and evil, shadow and light, the dark side and the light side. The Force swinging back and forth.

The two men stop their quarrel.

“L-lord Vader,” stutters Daddy.

*******************************************************************

Gleefully, I clap my hands together. “Oh it is you! The close confidant of our beloved Emperor.” I smile my brightest smile. “I hope His Excellency is well on this most beautiful day.”

The Imperial prince saunters closer to me. “I detect no sarcasm here.”

“No, Daddy usually is the sarcastic one, claims Uncle Alex,” I inform Lord Vader truthfully.

“Uncle Alex?” he repeats.

“Oh, I am sorry, you would not know him under that name. I mean Agent Kallus, of course.”

Daddy groans loudly.

Even though it seems to hurt him a big deal, the Imperial prince crouches down in front of me. “Who are you?”

This I can answer. I salute like Daddy has taught me. “Cassandra Morrígain Krennic. At your service.”

Shaking his head, Daddy face-palms.

I blush and remember the command I just disregarded. If I am ever to fall into the hands of the enemy, I am to keep my identity secret. But this Imperial Prince is not the enemy. He is on our side. This is all very confusing.

It is Mitth'raw'nuruodo who steps up behind me and not Daddy. “Are you not expected at the library, Lord Vader?”

“I am not Tarkin's lap dog. Nor do I do autograph sessions.”

“That is a pity,” I voice full of regret. “Somebody like you must be a true hero of the Empire. A mighty warrior who gives his best to bring peace and order back to this galaxy. I bet there are even advertising posters of you. You really owe the children.”

Lord Vader seems to sway a bit. “I do not owe anyone.”

“Your signature would make my day,” I insist and look up hopefully into the masked face. “You could write something on the frame of my hover chair.”

“I do not even own a pen,” comes the bleak answer.

“The feather is more powerful than the sword,” I clip out, wanting to make a point about the importance of writing and reading.

“I doubt that very much.”

Suddenly, there is a flash of red light.

“Whee!” I cheer and stare straight into a flame sword. It is so hauntingly beautiful. And Lord Vader swings it with such expertise. I do not even flinch.

*******************************************************************

The sprinkler system is still on, while flustered gallery staff asks us into the Naboo chamber and closes off the Jedha exhibition.

With his flame sword, the Imperial prince has cut right through the prayer wheels, all of them. I am strangely at peace with myself, even though I am dripping with water.

“Was it really necessary to destroy those valuable artefacts, Lord Vader?” complains Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

“Education is one of the highest costs of the current state budget, Commodore Thrawn. And I just gave Mistress Krennic a lesson. The sword always wins in the end.”

Daddy says nothing, his cheekbones working though.

“Why are you not afraid?” the Imperial prince wants to know from me.

“You are a champion of our beloved Emperor,” I reason. “No harm could ever come from you.”

Lord Vader places a trembling hand on my right shoulder. “Director Krennic, your daughter has a severe genetic defect.”

“Yeah,” Daddy replies hoarsely.

“Oh, I fear all the time.” My cheeks colour. “Sometimes my own shadow scares me. But I see no reason to fear you.”

“I can prove you otherwise,” he challenges me, but I am aware that he is just following his strange codex of honour. “What would it take to get you into a state of blind panic?”

“You are not a very gallant knight,” I sniff at him.

“What makes you believe that I am a knight?” prompts the Imperial prince.

“Your flame sword.”

“I could have stolen it from a true knight.”

To this I only shake my head defiantly.

His next question comes unexpected. “How old are you?”

“Six.” Quickly I add, “And you?”

There is silence for a while.

I think that I can make out human eyes behind the red lenses, but that might be a trick of the light.

Finally, Lord Vader replies, “That is for me to know and for you to ponder about, little girl.”

“You move like a new-born baby,” I give back, not sure where the words come from. “I bet you are a Clone Wars veteran who has lost a lot. Perhaps even legs and arms by the look of it.”

“Don't push it, Cassie!” warns Daddy.

“Daddy can give you the contact of my physiotherapist. Normally, she only helps children. But for you she might make an exception.” I proudly wiggle my legs. “See, last week I could not do that. Now I can even walk small distances. Baby steps, but still. You look like you could use some support.”

There is still no palpable annoyance from Lord Vader. Just a huge wave of curiosity. “Earlier on, when you were busy with the cylinders, what exactly did you say to them?”

I gaze up into the masked face. _“Oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ,”_ I offer and translate straight away, “ _The jewel is in the lotus._ See, it's the _bodhisattva_ of compassion. All living beings possess this seed.”

His artificial breath is like cold wind.

I point at the gravestone of Padmé Naberrie. “This woman is named after the lotus flower and compassion for others was her goal in life.”

Lord Vader suddenly turns and marches out.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo waits until the Imperial prince really is gone. Only then he bends down to me and gives me a small hug. “Cassandra, without even knowing it you helped me to solve a riddle today. This calls for a piece of cake and a hot chocolate, don't you think?”

*******************************************************************  
Wrapped in blankets, while our clothing is at a nearby dry cleaner, we sit in the cafeteria of the museum. I am having a slice of air cake, while the Daddy and the commodore enjoy a mug of black coffee with no sugar in it.

“We should go here more often,” I suggest, swinging my pastry fork like a flame sword.

With his eye brows raised in alarm, Daddy takes the fork out of my hand. “Definitely not, Cassandra!”

I hate it when he says my name like this. It means that he is very, very mad with me. “But we have not seen the rest of the gallery. And it is still open until 6am, Daddy.”

With a smirk Daddy takes my napkin and starts cleaning my mouth. “I had enough excitement for one day, believe me.”

“If I might intervene here,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo cuts in. “The dry cleaning saloon will bring our clothing back in 30 minutes sharp. They know who we are and will do their utmost not to disappoint two high ranking Imperial officers.”

“And your point is?” probes Daddy, a sour crinkle in his cheeks.

“We have all the time in the universe to make this a wonderful excursion for Cassandra.”

Daddy inhales sharply. “You do not get it, Commodore Thrawn, do you? Lord Vader met my daughter today. This never should have happened.” His fist comes down on the table. Our tableware chinks. “Blasted Alex. He insists that Cassie should take more part in social and cultural life.”

“Way spoken.” Mitth'raw'nuruodo is his usual composed self, even there is a slight frown. “Lord Vader will also see it this way.”

“He could have killed her!”

“But he did not. Which means that he is interested in her well-being. You focus too much on the negative here.”

“Do you have children?” Daddy clips out.

The commodore shakes his head.

“Then stop telling me what is right for my only child.” Daddy crumples his own napkin. “She already has a godfather in Alexsandr.”

“Normally, I do not put myself in the centre, Director Krennic, but I would like to be a stand-in for Agent Kallus.”

Daddy makes an ugly face. “Let us get Boba Fett in and some musical instruments. Then we can form a band already.”

Mitth'raw'nuruodo lays his head a little crooked. “Strange, that you would add a notorious bounty hunter like him into our triumvirate.”

“Oh, there is an old life debt. He is very persistent about that.” Daddy stares at his hands. “To be honest, I expect him to show up on my door step sooner or later. About Cassandra.”

“He does not seem a family type of person to me,” the commodore muses.

“Since you do your art thingy all the time, do them for Mandalorians,” slurs Daddy. “It will be worthwhile your precious time.”

“I might consider that.”

*******************************************************************

Not much later, we have all our clothes back on and stand inside a huge chamber. I start shivering a bit, because the room temperature is rather cool. It hosts several ice sculptures, being kept in special glass containers. I also spot three large steles that Mitth'raw'nuruodo identifies as Rakatan.

“That means that this planet was part of the Infinite Empire,” I state and smile up at Daddy.

“An Empire is always a much better idea than a republic run by a senate.” He pats my head. “One leader, one clear vision.”

Our new Chiss friend remains silent, but there is a ripple on his lips. He gives his best to suppress a smile. “You really raise Cassandra up as a loyal citizen.”

“What else should she be? A rebel against the system?” Daddy frowns. “Listen, you popped in straight after the Clone Wars, right? This galaxy was in chaos for many years. Sheev Palpatine was the only one who had the guts and the brains to end the suffering. All the senate ever did was going 'blah, blah, blah' and being mind-tricked by those Jedi wizards.”

“Sculpting ice must be difficult,” I throw in because we should not get political again.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo bows lightly. “It indeed presents a number of difficulties due to the variability and volatility of the material.”

“You sound like you tried it out before.”

“I am afraid that my home world has not much in common with Lexrul, where your dad was born.”

Daddy rolls his eyes. “Don't remind me of that dull place.”

“Yet you were lucky to have much greenery around you,” disagrees the commodore.

“That's what you think. Apart from the music both planets sucked profoundly.”

Mitth'raw'nuruodo focuses his attention on me again. “Csilla is mostly a place of glaciers and snowy wastes. Very much like Hoth here. With ice in abundance and winter as the main season, I tried out ice sculpting when I was around your age.”

“Did you like it?” I ask eagerly.

“Very much.” The commodore touches one of the glass cylinders in an almost tender way. “Generally, sculptures like this are carved from blocks of ice. What you need to do, my dear Cassandra, is to carefully select an ice block. One that is suitable for your purposes. It should be free of undesired impurities.”

“I thought ice is always pure,” I blurt out, remembering the ice cubes inside the Corellian whiskey that daddy drinks from time to time.

In denial Mitth'raw'nuruodo shakes his head. “Clear, transparent ice is but a result of the freezing process. It is not necessarily related to the purity of the water.”

********************************************************************

For more than half an hour the commodore shares his experiences as an ice artist with us.

We also learn about the ice carnival. It is annually held in the capital of Csilla. There are not only ice sculptures, but giant ice mazes, ice slides with various levels of difficulties and countless ice games, too.

Ice climbing, figure skating, ice yachting, curling, ice hockey, sledding, ice bowling, and many more.

I long to see all those things myself, but the Chiss lead a very isolated life in the Unknown Territories and usually keep to themselves. The Chiss Ascendency will not let me in as a guest so easily.

Hiding my distress as much as possible I ask, “What colour do the glaciers on Csilla have?”

“They are actually blue like the skin of my people.” There is a happy spark in the commodore's red eyes. “Our scientists recently have found out that this was caused by a mineral found in the Csillan hydrosphere.”

“So you were humans once,” Daddy suspects.

“I hope not. That would turn us into descendants of mere rodents.” Mitth'raw'nuruodo winks at me. “Imagine all the amount of cheese I would need to eat then. Mould cheese, long riped hard cheese, cream cheese...”

Giggling, I look at the AT-AT – an All Terrain Armoured Transport vehicle – in front of me. “Will the Empire ever come to Hoth?”

“Nay,” Daddy denies. “There is nothing of interest there, Cassie. Unless one loves frostbite, snow-blindness and frozen limbs.”

“But look,” I point out at a huge mount called Tauntaun. “Those could be useful.”

“I bet they smell worse than banthas.” Daddy gives me one of his lopsided smiles that make him look much, much younger. “Once I talked to a sandtrooper on Scarif who claimed that they have a stench worse than… ah forget about it, Cassie dear. It is a nasty word.”

I grin for Daddy knows many nasty words.

The commodore takes a step closer to Daddy. “Oh you had business on Scarif?”

“Don't act too surprised, bluestocking! I am the bloody architect of the Citadel tower.”

“The tower that got destroyed five years ago?”

There is some nervous sweat on Daddy's brow. “I am not to blame for that. Saw Gerrera did it. And he just blew off the top. Some medical chamber got destroyed, true. But the data files were never in danger. All this semi-knowledge and the half-truths that are around. _Bollocks!_ Navy members can be worse than old fish wives when putting their heads together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> The lyrics of the score “Duel of fates” for “Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace” by John Williams (1999)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	5. Chapter 5

While the men discuss the bomb attack from long ago, I slip away with my hover chair. This is an art gallery and I want to explore more art. The art of war is boring. It never creates. There is only destruction and in the end people cry bitterly.

I flatten my nose against the next tank.

Somebody has done the Emperor, who is much smaller than I thought. He has a friendly face though and many laugh lines.

I hope so much that I will get invited to the Imperial court one fine day. To be personally introduced to Sheev Palpatine would be an absolute highlight. Instead of making a courtesy, I would rather kiss his hand. This man has done so much for us, his citizens. He deserves all our love and loyalty.

It makes me sad to know that there are people out there who do not like the Emperor at all. Who tell lies about him and blame him for all the misery in their lives.

It must be hard to sit on a throne, always detached from the rest of society and being forced to make all the hard decisions. Like a loving parent really. I can see how tough it is for my own father to do me justice all the time.

I move on.

Right next to his sculpture is that of Lord Vader. Once more I am impressed. The height, the armour, the grandeur. He is like one of the knights in my fairy tale books.

Wiggling my legs, I start to wonder if he is romantically in love with a princess or even a queen.

There was something like courtly love on Naboo once upon a time. Daddy read about it to me recently. Embroidered handkerchiefs and other pledges of love were granted before a knights tournament.

But to be honest, I would rather have Mitth'raw'nuruodo as my sweetheart than Lord Vader. The latter would be a cool body guard though. Somebody I could always rely on, no matter what. Around him I have felt so safe, so whole.

Next in line is a cold assault stormtrooper, also known more simply as snowtrooper. He wears something like a white, rugged body glove. That type of armour does not only provide camouflage, but also thermal insulation from the cold.

There is a podium next to the glass cylinder.

“Snow globes,” I shriek.

There are replicas of the galaxy's most beautiful palaces.

I pick them up one by one, investigating the sceneries before I give them a good shake.

The Aldera Royal Palace on Alderaan.

An unspecified palace on Serenno.

The Theed Royal Palace on Naboo.

The Governor's Palace on Eriadu.

The Fountain Palace on Hapes.

The Weeta Palace on Nal Hutta.

Prince Xizor's Palace here on Coruscant.

“Daddy,” I call out, “Do we know a Xizor?”

Daddy rushes towards me. “Hopefully, we don't, Cassie dear, and never will. He is a notorious Falleen criminal.”

The word 'criminal' makes it perfectly clear to me that no further investigation into the subject is allowed.

Sulking, I look around searching for Mitth'raw'nuruodo. He sits on a gallery bench and puts on ice skates.

The museum pedagogues have erected a 375 square meters area where gallery visitors are able to make their own art. Body art.

“Oh, Daddy, can we go on the ice, too?”

“You are still learning to walk. One thing at a time,” he admonishes me. “But we can certainly watch while our blue man is artistic.”

********************************************************************

While we are watching Mitth'raw'nuruodo together, Daddy puts both hands on my shoulders. Then he squeezes them lightly. I can tell he is in deep awe. Which is understandable. For I feel the same.

“Chiss culture is often looked upon by the rest of the universe with a heady mixture of intrigue and respect. He covers the ice with the precision of a stylus.” He cackles. “Mind you, Cassie, a blue stylus.”

His joke leads me to the following question. “Why do you hate him so much? Because the Emperor favours him a lot at present?”

“Hate is too strong a word.” Daddy pauses. Concentration makes his fingers stiff. “I am more careful around him than you are. That is all.”

“But you don't know much about his people,” I suggest. “Nobody really does. It is all rumours and legends from space travellers.”

“The more reason to be careful. So much precision is suspicious, don't you think? I bet even his desk is nice and clean.”

Daddy usually makes a mess when he is brainstorming. But when he has finished his task he always cleans up his working place.

In silence we continue to watch the commodore making his rounds on the ice, including difficult jumps that make my heart stand still each time.

“Cassie!” Daddy laughs his irresistible laugh. “Stop looking so worried. He knows exactly what he is doing.”

When Mitth'raw'nuruodo comes back he does not even look sweaty. His uniform is in a flawless state, too. He bows to me before he addresses Daddy. “The philosophy of my people is simple, Director Krennic. _Aim to be better in all that you do – and who knows, you might achieve perfection._ ”

“I like myself as I am,” Daddy lies.

“Your earlier building projects, such as the Naval Intelligence headquarters, and your daughter show that you are capable of great things.”

Now the frustration breaks out of Daddy like a huge flood wave. “Since I am with the Tarkin Initiative I cannot live up to my own expectations even. I am surrounded by incompetent people all the time. This is why my latest project goes utterly wrong. Delivery problems, material shortage, computer errors, accidents at work...”

The commodore raises a brow. “This points more to sabotage, if you ask me. You should have it investigated.”

“I already do,” complains Daddy. “To no avail. The Emperor blames me, does not want to see me personally any more. It is not fair.”

*******************************************************************

On our way to the next chamber, the Jakku exhibition, the link between Daddy and Mitth'raw'nuruodo deepens. I can feel the respect and acceptance the two have won for each other over the past hours.

Sometimes talking to an enemy is a good option. That person might turn into a friend.

I smile to myself.

While the men continue to speak about work related things as modified star fighters and building sites, I look at sand mandalas, carpets and stone sculptures. All of them come from a little village called Tuanul. It does not look much on the Holo projections, but I can tell it is thriving with spirituality and creativity.

Deserts seem to be places that bring out the best in people. The vastness, the emptiness, this must be all very humbling.

There is a sand pit and a sign inviting me to use it.

Laboriously, I leave my hover chair and crawl onto the edge of the pit. With a soft puff, I land in the sand. It feels good in my hands.

“Ah, a kinaesthetic experience!” With a facial expression that comes close to glee the Commodore comes to sit next to me. “Won't you join us, Director Krennic?”

“No thanks. Sand is not my type of building material. You two go ahead.”

“Daddy!” I whine.

He sighs. “Very well then.”

Soon the three of us build a sand castle.

Daddy makes sure that there are strategically placed canons. In case somebody sneaks into the castle.

When we get up, I stumble.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo catches me just on time and lifts me up. While he carries me to my hover chair, I notice that I have destroyed most of our castle by accident.

“Oh no!” I call out.

“ _Dust in the wind_ , Cassie.” Daddy clicks his tongue. _“All we are is dust in the wind.”_

Even though he is right about it, it makes me sad that he has to point it out so brutally.

The commodore cups my face. “Death comes to all of us.” His fingers are unbelievingly warm. “A warrior like me can only hope to die in battle, being brave and strong. That is the essence of true honour.”

“But death is the end of all things,” I say, almost at the brink of a panic attack.

“Take a good look around,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo suggests. “The good people of Tuanul seem to think differently. All their art points to the glory of life. Even in the after-life.”

“No,” corrects Daddy non-nonchalantly. “This is all about the Unifying Force, an aspect of the Force.”

“How would you know?” inquires the commodore.

“Both of my parents were members of the same sect, too. It's called the Church of the Force. Why the Emperor does not root them out is a miracle to me. They are a threat to children. This is why…” he gives me a sorrowful look. “I have not introduced you to your own grandfather yet.”

That is quite a revelation for Daddy. It must not be easy for him saying this. I am so proud of him.

“I begin to understand what ails you, Director Krennic,” answers the commodore thoughtfully.

Daddy lifts a hand. “You never will. Only somebody who has been through this sort of brain washing really can. All those gatherings, prayers and meditation sessions.” He turns away from us. “One day I even believed that the Force was with me and that if I only tried hard enough I could lift a stone with the power of my will. I sat down and stared and stared. Hour after hour. It would not work. The Force is only with Jedi knights. And we know how they abused their abilities in the end, right? Tried to murder our Palpatine.”

I feel for Daddy. He almost breaks my heart. No wonder he is so bitter at times. Perhaps I should explain to him that the Force is with each of us, Force-sensitives and non-Force users alike. But it is better when I keep my mouth closed for now. This is not the right moment.

Swiftly, Daddy turns around, his features hard and implacable. “It would be better if places like Jakku, Lexrul, Jedha, Chandrila, Naboo and Alderaan got extinct from the star charts. Religion can be like a poison.”

“What about cultural diversity?” wonders Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

“The freedom of diversity can lead to catastrophes like the Clone Wars. Disagreement, secession and power abuse. Don't give me that look, Commodore Thrawn! Your people also like to keep to themselves.”

“I have to admit that foreigners are a constant micro-disturbance in the harmony-optimized Csillan social ether.” There is regret in Mitth'raw'nuruodo's voice. “But it is not their fault. Our standards are just too high.”

“Is this why you have come all the way from the Unknown Territories? To learn more how we function?”

“The Chiss Ascendency hopes for an alliance with the Emperor.” The commodore bows formally. “I have the honour to be a humble diplomat.”

“I rather would say somebody dislikes you so much that he has sent you on a suicide mission,” replies Daddy.

*******************************************************************

The next room is full of plants and pretty flowers. Above the entrance door a sign says 'Ithor chamber'.

“The art of mother nature never fails to impress,” the commodore prompts straight away. “It has inspired artists since the dawn of time.”

“A poet has been lost on you,” Daddy comments, each of his words drenched in sarcasm. “I bet you write a lot of poetry in your spare time.”

“Actually I do.” Mitth'raw'nuruodo stays polite. “But you would not be able to read them.”

“Why the freck not?”

“My mother tongue consists of three different scripts. There are a lot of ideograms. Each character has its own meaning and corresponds to a word. By combining characters, more words can be created.”

“Sounds easy to learn.”

The eyes of the commodore narrow a bit, making him look like a slightly annoyed tokken. “There are several ten thousands of characters, of which 2000 to 3000 are required to understand the daily news.”

“Sounds very inefficient,” Daddy concludes.

“There is a never-ending winter on my home world. Calligraphy is just one form of amusement for us.”

“You forgot to mention your obsession with perfection.”

For the first time the commodore smiles so widely that his dazzling teeth show. “Snow crystals are perfect. I am not, yet my culture encourages me to give my utmost every day. Life-long learning is important for everybody.”

“Well, snow flake, you are certainly interesting to look at from every angle.”

“You make me feel like engaging in a vendetta with you, Director Krennic.”

While they have another discussion, this time more lively, I plunge my nose into a fat pink blossom and take a deep breath. The sweetness of the scent almost makes me dizzy.

I sneeze.

With the speed of a fathier the commodore is at my side and gives me his handkerchief. It is snow white, unused and smells of his discreet aftershave.

“This is the second time that you come to my daughter's rescue. Do I need to send out the engagement invitations soon?”

For this aspersion Daddy gets a dark look that he laughs away immediately.

Embarrassed, I hide my face in another calyx.

Not much later I gaze at several flower arrangements in vases, transient art.

There are also holo images of plant parts, thousand times enlarged.

I move on to a large table that encourages me to fold my own paper blossoms. With a serious face I reach out for the colourful material that is as thin as rose buds.

When Daddy and Mitth'raw'nuruodo join me, I have three blossoms ready. I give the commodore one and he carefully tucks it away in his uniform. “I can teach you more forms if you want me to,” he suggests. “A tie fighter, an Imperial shuttle and stormtroopers.”

“I would like that very much,” I say softly.

A part of me hopes that he also has folding instructions for unicorns, a Krayt dragon, Twi'leks and angels. Gungans, Hutts and Ewoks would also be nice.

My fine motor skills need practice anyway.

*******************************************************************

Next door is the 'Alderaanian chamber'. What pleases me immensely are four huge flower beds filled with literal grass paintings. I clap my hands together and start cheering.

“It's just grass, Cassie,” Daddy laughs. “The stuff that nerfs and grazers stuff themselves full with.”

“The planet of Alderaan is the home of over eight thousand species of grass,” Director Krennic,” the commodore reminds him.

“When you grow up on a planet like Chandrila you give no further thought to grass. But I bet your people can distinguish between at least a dozen forms of ice and snow.”

“Fifty-two.” Mitth'raw'nuruodo sounds triumphantly.

“Why am I not surprised?”

This time their quarrel is more friendly. Which relieves me.

There is a small flower bed that has a sign saying, “Please touch me!”

And I do, leaning out of my hover chair a bit.

The leaves of grass feel soft under my hands. They tickle nicely.

Soon my movements become more rhythmic.

I close my eyes, but I am still seeing the grass. It glows under my fingers.

But there is more, much more.

I see the red-haired man from earlier on. His eyes are as blue as the sky above.

He holds something.

A baby. It smiles at him full of trust and hope. Through time and space it also smiles at me.

I gasp and open my eyes again.

Daddy and the commodore still bend their heads together.

Wary, I stare at the little grass painting, not much larger than the sand pit from earlier on.

I start asking myself if seeing things – far away places, unknown persons – is really appropriate. Normally, Mary tells me what is appropriate and what not. Daddy programmed her that way. But in the end it is all about etiquette and human behaviour. And not about mystical stuff.

There is something inside me. Today, provoked from all my impressions in this gallery, it has awoken.

The words come flooding into my head and my lips speak them. They are strange and familiar at the same time.

“Om  
Prāṇāyāma  
bhur bhuvah svaha  
tat savitur varenyam  
bhargo devasya dhimahi  
dhiyo yo nah prachodayat”

I have to cry without knowing why.

Om  
Life force  
Giver of all life, remover of all pain and suffering, giver of all happiness.  
That being of light, I come to you.  
Remove my sins the light of all that is good and let us focus on this.  
Guide my soul on the path of light.

There is a movement next to me.

“Why are you crying, cricket?” a male voice asks.

*******************************************************************

I look up into the face of a human man. With his messy beard and long unruly mane he stands for all that Daddy despises: anarchy and no deference to authority.

“Normally my art does not provoke such a strong reaction,” he smiles.

I crook my head and read the name tag next to the grass painting.

“You are Ob Kaddor?” I guess.

“Indeed,” he says and wants to shake hands with me.

“Back away from my daughter!” Daddy calls out, his modified DT-29 heavy blaster pistol at the ready.

The artist raises his arms in the air, shock in his face. “Whoa!”

“Daddy!” I complain. “Did you really have to bring your weapon with you? This is a public art gallery.”

He takes that damned thing everywhere. Even to the loo.

“If you want the gallery security personnel to kick us out, then go ahead!” suggests Mitth'raw'nuruodo icily.

“Vader can unleash destruction and chaos in here with a blasted light sabre and I cannot even point a blaster at the pervert advancing on my child?”

I rise from my hover chair. “But Daddy, this is Ob Kaddor.”

Daddy releases his weapon from stun to deadly attitude. “The trouble maker.”

Laughing, the artist sinks on a nearby bench. “You sound exactly like my old man.”

“Vice versa.”

“Cool, dude.”

The commodore glares at Daddy. “Orson, gun down!” he barks.

That they are already at a first name basis does not really surprise me. It is more astonishing that Daddy obeys without delay. He even puts the weapon back to stun.

“I longed to meet you ever since I lay eyes on one of your grass paintings,” says Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

“An admirer, finally!” grins Ob Kaddor.

“I happen to recognize true art when I see it.”

“Please tell this to the head of the art department! My latest grass art pieces have provoked quite a controversy at the University of Alderaan!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> the bodhisattva of compassion taken from the website BuddhaNet  
> A sentence from the move “Rouge One, a Star Wars story” by Gareth Edwards (2016)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	6. Chapter 6

While the commodore and the artist begin a civilized conversation, no guns included, Daddy squats down in front of my hover chair.

“Why are you so prickly today?” I inquire softly and begin to stroke his right cheek. “Is it about the latest supply shortages for your project? Or has Master Galen acted stupid again?”

Daddy secures his weapon and puts it in my lap. “You better take this, Cassie! I really don't want to know what I am capable of.”

“This man just talked to me, Daddy,” I stress.

He hangs his head. “Alex warned me about this.”

“Just relax and all will be fine!” I say with utter conviction and smile brightly. “Mitth'raw'nuruodo is a nice person. Lord Vader was kind, too.”

His head jerks up again and he presses my hands so hard that it hurts. “Kind? There is no kindness in that monster. He could have cut you apart like those prayer wheels. How the freck can you stay so calm?”

Something tugs at the strings of my heart and I hear me say, _“All is as the Force wills it.”_

With wide open eyes he stares at me. “Be careful what you say, Cassandra! You are not some Jedi huger or Force fanatic like my parents. This is not how I raised you!”

I wish I could explain to him how much peace filled my chest when we entered the Naboo exhibition chamber. How nice it was to make the acquaintance of the Imperial prince. Something tells me that I should feel fear, terror even, but I can't. I am just happy. Even when his flame sword moved through the air, I was sure that he just wanted to teach me a lesson. There is good in him and I know it.

Like Daddy, Lord Vader believes in his mission to bring order and peace to this galaxy. He is loyal to all that the Empire stands for. This should be common ground and not a reason for distrust, leave alone blind panic.

“You are killing me,” Daddy swallows.

I lean forward to kiss one of his cheeks. “Learn to trust others! Even yourself, Daddy!”

********************************************************************

Even though Ob Kaddor is visibly uncomfortable around Daddy, he shares a sneak preview of his latest commission with us. It comes from the Royal House of Alderaan.

“Killik Twilight?” Daddy sneers. “What a stupid name? How much weed did you smoke until you came up with that name?”

“I am not into drugs at all.”

Before this goes out of hand once more, I ask, “This is not grass you are working with this time, is it?”

The artist switches off his portable holo projector. “Well spotted, girl. It is moss."

“Could as well be mould fungus,” Daddy mutters loud enough for everybody to hear him.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo displays a lot of diplomacy once more. “That means that the painting needs to be watered constantly or else the moss will dry up.”

“That is correct. All in all moss is much harder to work with than grass.”

“Why the Kind?” I pipe up.

All three men look at me in surprise.

“The Killiks, I mean. They were the slaves of the Celestials. Your people are against slavery.”

Baffled, Ob Kaddor answers, “Queen Breha told me that Lelila loves grasshoppers a lot. Because they are not epic enough for a princess' bed chamber, I made some research on the Killik race instead. The entire Castle lands are full of their hives.”

The commodore bathes me in his thoughtful gaze. It is like lying under a microscope. I start feeling slightly uncomfortable for the first time he is with us. Daddy's earlier warnings echo through my head.

“What else is Alderaan famous for?” I say and start looking around.

The chamber walls are covered with huge landscape paintings, mostly done with oil colours.

I am glad you are asking.” The commodore takes hold on my hover chair and stirs it towards the art pieces. “As one of the oldest and most popular forms of painting, the history of Landscape Painting is fascinating and inspiring.”

Daddy and Ob Kaddor trail along while Mitth'raw'nuruodo explains the formula of sorts for determining the subtle atmospheric progression of colours and colour values.

“There’s a light average value and a shadow average value.”

Even though the commodore is not talking about the light side or the Force or its counterpart, his words provoke me to think about it anyway.

“When you add the half-tone between the two, or the middle value of the palette, you have form.”

Deep within me, I see the island from my dreams. There is a stone floor and set straight into it is a mosaic. It shows an alien whose body is basically split by the ancient Ying and Yang form. He holds up some kind of staff or a sword.

“Whatever you do, Cassandra, you can’t create the illusion of light. It is also impossible to bring your canvas to life without form.”

I nod, but I am not fully with Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

All I can see is the mosaic.

The light.

The dark.

All the spaces in between.

I run a hand over my burning eyes.

“Are you not well?” Daddy asks anxiously. “Should we go home? You look feverish.”

“No, Daddy. I am fine,” I insist and try to look as convincing as possible.

********************************************************************

Under the watchful eyes of Daddy we continue to look at Alderaanian glass art and a number of mosaics. I sit upright in my hover chair and demonstrate more strength than I actually have left. It is just a question of time until we head home again. Which is a pity for I am enjoying myself very much. But something is eating at my soul. I am torn between happiness and great sorrow.

Even though Mitth'raw'nuruodo is still in conversation with Ob Kaddor I can tell that he is not missing the slightest detail of the art he is scanning with his crimson eyes.

When we come into the 'Corellian chamber' the lips of Daddy show deep contempt. “Street art? Seriously?”

“I thought you would feel rather at home among graffiti and wall paintings,” says the commodore with something close to satisfaction.

Daddy puts his hands on his hips, looking exhausted. “Hey, do I look like a person who would willingly deface power boxes, street lamps, traffic signs and other street furniture?”

“I think you are capable of a lot of mischief and unsanctioned actions, my dear Orson,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo answers, the eerie ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Again, for the daft and hearing impaired among us, guerilla art is totally not my thing.” His brows come together. “I am an architect and engineer. My building complexes and battle stations should be enough proof. To crawl through the night for some forbidden kick is not me.”

“Are you sure?”

“What exactly has Tarkin the old stinker said about me?”

“You really would not want to know.”

“Oh, on the contrary. I insist. Spill the beans!”

We all come to a halt in front of a wall that is sprayed with figures and signs. There is also a side table with spray paint and a box with gum shields.

“I cannot believe that they really ask us to do this.” Daddy is outraged. “This is a call of civil disobedience. I will write a letter of complaint to the art gallery director.”

“You could simply give it a try, Daddy.”

His nasal wings flutter and his facial colour looks unhealthy. “No thank you,” he says, a hard edge to his voice.

“I will then,” announces the commodore and takes a spray can containing black colour.

Within no time he adds grey, white and blue and we behold the perfect image of an Imperial Star Destroyer in the depths of space.

“Show-off!” groans Daddy, but picks up a can with red colour.

When he has finished, the six-spoked symbol of our beloved Empire decorates the wall as well.

“I'm out,” Ob Kaddor says, his lips turned downward in a frown. “If you would excuse me, gentlemen and little mistress, I have other things to attend to.”

I watch the Alderaanian artist storm out of the room.

“Not really a fan is he?” comments Daddy.

“Time will tell,” replies Mitth'raw'nuruodo, his eyes glittering. “The change of government concept seems to hit the population of Alderaan very hard. I wonder if this has to do with the Sith Empire of old.”

Daddy looks as if he just has eaten something sour and rather unpleasant. “Sith Empire? That is centuries ago.”

“For some planets the past plays an important role in current political decisions.”

“Gah, that is too far fetched. You over-analyse this, blue stocking.”

“Mark my words, there will be more systems that need to be aligned. All has happened before and all will happen again.”

I move my hover chair away from them and investigate a strange looking street installation.

It is a number of badly damaged speed gliders that are piled up to some sort of tower.

Their sight reminds me of something, but I cannot put a finger on it. I have never been to Corellia before, but I do like what I see in so far.

Then my eyes catch something funny. Somebody has knitted a scarf like shape around a pipe. It has all the colours of the rain bow. Attached to it are doughnuts and tea cups, also done with wool.

“Yarn bombing,” I read the explaining sign. “What a funny idea, Daddy!”

“It is vandalism, Cassie.” There is a raw edge to his gaze, that tells me that I have stepped out of my league once again. “And nothing more!”

“But it would make Coruscant a much brighter and more cheerful place if we had some of those, too.”

Casually, Daddy leans against a column.

Suddenly, all the lights go off, but not for long. LED installations flash on instead.

“Only these lights here can be seen as art as long as they are sanctioned by the authorities,” he says smugly. “Otherwise they are evidence of damage. And mind me there are high prison sentences these days, when state property gets compromised.”

“But what about artistic freedom?” I demand to know.

“We have been here too long,” I can hear Daddy's voice in the semi-dark. “It is time to go home.”

Two red lights with a life of their own come closer to us.

With some time delay I notice that it is but the commodore joining us again.

“We only have seen twenty-five percent of what the Coruscant Art Gallery has to offer,” he points out.

Daddy is not happy. “Nobody has warned me that museum pedagogues have infiltrated this place. It is all about participation out of a sudden.”

“I kind of like this style.” Mitth'raw'nuruodo sounds enthusiastic. “It turns art experiences into real experiences. This is one of the best galleries I have been to in so far.”

“Just two more rooms for today,” I beg. “Daddy, please! I will even take shooting lessons from Uncle Alex, just as you asked me one week ago.”

The light flashes on again.

With haunted eyes Daddy replies, “Fair enough, little soldier! We have a deal.”

********************************************************************

The 'Mandalore chamber' is but a large weapon arsenal and at first I do not like it. Just looking at the weapons makes me uneasy. Each of them is designed to kill. Besides, they lack the beauty of Lord Vader's flame sword.

Then I spot a collection of helmets, once worn by the loyal Clone troops. The individual markings win my interest.

Daddy guesses spot on what I am wondering about. “These either show the rank or unit they belonged to.”

“What are those?” I point at something that looks like wings on one of the helmets.

Giving the remnant of war a thoughtful gaze Daddy picks it up. With a long, yet thin metal chain it is fixed to the exhibition table. He turns it around in his hands. “Behold, _jai'galaar'la sur'haii'se,_ ” he says. “Better known as _shriek-hawk eyes_ to those who are not fluent in _Mando'a_.”

Fascinated, the commodore stares down at the helmet. “Do they have a deeper meaning?”

Proudly, Daddy answers, “They serve as a mark of honour, awarded for particular acts of bravery.”

“It is always good to learn something new.”

Daddy places a hand on Mitth'raw'nuruodo's shoulder. “Then come and meet the Mandalorian cubism.”

He leads the way towards a row of paintings. As far as I can see they are done with acrylic colours.

“Most Cubist works can be immediately recognized.”

“I see what you mean.” The commodore builds up before a portrait. “This is bold and innovative at the same time. No wonder that you like this art form.”

I join the two men and look at somebody called Duchess Satine. She is a blond human woman with blue eyes and a large head dress. Her face looks funny though. I have never seen anything like it.

The commodore nods to himself. “All the forms are broken up into angular and geometric shapes. This gives her a flattened, nearly two-dimensional appearance.” He narrows his eyes and takes one step closer towards the canvas. “The colour scheme also strikes me as odd. It is somewhat simplified.”

I go through all the pictures while they remain in front of the duchess, discussing like old friends for the first time.

All portraits are like images from people being inside a house of mirrors. Distorted and barely recognizable.

The markings of the Clone trooper helmets are more to my liking and speak a much clearer language.

********************************************************************

Reading the sign of the next chamber makes my heart beat faster. For it promises the water world Mon Cala, home to the Mon Calmari and the Quarren. Both alien races are amphibious and aquatic.

Fact is, I am sort of aquatic, too. For I love water. I know it sounds crazy, but for me it is like returning home. The very place I ought to be.

Occasionally, Daddy jokes that he has to check for webbing between my fingers and my toes. For possible gills alongside my neck, too. Just to be on the safe side. Social services would have given him the documents for adopting a human girl, not a little mermaid. He would hate to bring me back to the pet shop or were ever mythical creatures belong to.

My fingers reach up for the door mechanism, but to my disappointment nothing happens. The entrance remains sealed.

“It has started,” Daddy sighs, light regret in his voice.

“What, Daddy?” I wonder.

“Cleaning, Cassie.”

“In the middle of the day?”

Our MSE-series droid Fluffy used to clean at night. One time Daddy hurt his right ankle, when he tripped over it. Ever since we have a real person doing the floors and much more.

“Give it up, Cassie!” Daddy's gaze is warm and friendly. “Maintenance must still be going on inside. Perhaps one of the aquariums broke and they want to be extra careful with the splinters.”

Mitth'raw'nuruodo says nothing, even though I can feel he would like to. Instead, he stands to attention.

I give the winged doors a considerate look. “Then we come back later. The Mon Cala chamber cannot be closed down the entire day. That would be stupid. Everybody adores the Mon Calamari and the Quarren. I certainly do.”

The commodore and Daddy exchange a knowing look.

“I would like to see the Ryloth chamber now,” I suggest, wondering what is going on between them. Their silent agreement worries me more than their lively discussions.

“This chamber is under maintenance as well,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo says and I cannot help to detect pity in his voice.

“Kashyyyk?” I prompt.

Daddy shakes his head, his gaze hooded. “It appears that they closed that particular chamber down completely.”

There is a whisper in my head. It is meek and faint, yet it is telling me that something is wrong in this gallery. That all those chambers should be open to the public.

“What about Tatooine?” the commodore suggests.

“Why should someone want to gaze at sand and scum?” Daddy snaps back. “Do you miss your space pirates so much? Have a break, gundog.”

“The Falleen chamber?” Mitth'raw'nuruodo adds for consideration.

“Oh yeah? If I want to look at funny lizards, I rather go to the zoo with Cassie. There she can at least feed them”

While they argue where to go next, I move on with my hover chair.

The winged doors of the Tatooine chamber are wide open.

I do not even look back.

********************************************************************

It does not really surprise me to find Lord Vader standing in the middle of the room. He has never left the building after our first encounter. All this time I was able to feel him with overwhelming clarity. He even has been spying on me, but I did not kick him out of my mind. The loneliness inside him, his hurt speak a clear language to me. This man needs some cheering up.

“Are you familiar with Tatooine, my prince?”

A short shiver goes through his body, even his breath seems to be faster. Then he says, “You should go back to them before they start missing you.” With a strange twist in his voice, he adds, “Cassandra Krennic.”

“But you are not well,” I insist.

My words make him turn around. “This should be none of your concern,” he states somewhat sternly, but I hear the underlying wonderment in his words.

I give him a bright smile. “Our cleaning lady says that a day without laughter is a day wasted.”

The sound Lord Vader makes behind his mask is close to a huff. “I seldom laugh.”

“This is perhaps the problem.”

He comes closer.

One of my favourite bedtime stories is the one about 'BFG', the big friendly giant. I wonder if I will ever get an invitation to his castle. As a prince he surely has one. I imagine it to be situated right next to a beautiful lake. Like the one from my dreams.

“There need to be rules between you and me in future,” Lord Vader clips out. “Rules that keep you safe from my wrath.”

“Then don't give in to it.”

When the Imperial prince kneels down in front of my chair and takes my hands into his gloved hands, I am not even blinking. “Hate is all that I have left. That keeps me going,” he replies.

I tilt my head. “You should try out an anger management course. Daddy did one around the time he took me in. It helped him immensely.”

“Why do you hope so much, when all is lost?”

“There is always a new hope.” I stare straight into his optical lenses. “The light comes back every morning.”

“What if there was eternal night, Cassandra? If sunlight would never return to you.”

I shrug. “Then I would start looking for ways to befriend the night.”

“How?”

The words come out of nowhere. Like a wall of fire they race through my head. _“Darkness is a friend, an ally. Darkness allows us to understand others, to see what they value when they believe no one else is looking. It allows us to be honest with ourselves, to express those values that we would disavow in the light. The light blinds us. It is only in the dark that we see clearly, and there is a great dark hidden among these worlds.”_

He lets go of me and rises to his full impressive height. When he puts his right hand on top of my head it is like a benevolent blessing.

“Cassie!”

There is more than alarm in Daddy's voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> A sentence from the move “Rouge One, a Star Wars story” by Gareth Edwards (2016)  
> Words from Darth Revan himself  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	7. Chapter 7

For the sixth time in a row, Daddy pauses his spoon and says, “And he just came back to ask you for the address of Mistress Billilo?”

My Wookie cookie ice seems to have lost all its taste. “He confirmed it to you, Daddy, didn't he? Why do you keep pushing me?”

Mitth'raw'nuruodo remains a silent witness once more. I cannot even hear him drinking his Joghan berries milkshake through his straw. He just sits glued to his chair with a face hard to read.

It feels bad lying to Daddy. He raised me to be truthful. There is a code of honour within the Krennic household. We have an Imperial identity that we live by. I am an officer's daughter and that means that Daddy is also my superior. But Lord Vader is next to the Emperor and I am supposed to honour the head of state.

Daddy looks at me, shakes his head and stares on. I am sure he will not finish his ice caf today. “No physiotherapist will ever be able to help that creature,” he remarks with a raised index finger, trying to make a point. “From my point of view Vader is a lost cause.”

“Nobody should be left behind,” I argue, my cheeks heated. “Certainly not by our beloved Empire.”

“Too late for that, I am afraid. Vader looks like the leftovers of a rancor meal, carelessly squeezed together into an ancient armour.”

“We do not know what is underneath his mask,” I warn Daddy.

“A cripple, that is for sure.”

The commodore puts his milkshake down on the table. “Speculations about His Lordship are dangerous.”

“Because Vader is the pet toy of the Emperor?” Daddy sneers, his face all of a sudden ugly.

“And they call me a disgrace to the fleet.” Each word that comes out of Mitth'raw'nuruodo's mouth is full of reproach. “You should reconsider your verbal ammunition, Orson.”

“Says the art nerd giving his environment an image analysis all the time. And if there is no painting at hand, weapons, jewellery and other items of daily use get scanned by his laser brain instead.”

“At least my fixation with art delivers good results. It does not annoy people overly much like a little architect and engineer who feels left out by the entire galaxy.”

“That's what you believe, firefly. There is talk. Many are not overly happy about the favours the Emperor bestows you with.”

It is amazing that grown-ups can forget about children, when they argue with one another. Uncle Alexsandr is like this, too. Daddy always tickles the worst out of another man. But than again, he is awkward around women, too.

I continue eating my ice, sure that a lot of 'classified' things get discussed right in front of me.

The ice parlour is quiet at this time of day. We are the only ones upstairs. Most people sit outside on the plaza, but my skin and my eyes are too sensitive for direct solar radiation.

I start hoping that my existence will never be a shadow life like Lord Vader has. His war injuries make it necessary for him to wear his armour. Protective as it is, it is a cage though. I feel sorry for him, even though this is the last thing he wants from me. Pity will not help him in the least. It only angers him.

********************************************************************

With the promise to visit us soon, Mitth'raw'nuruodo departs from us right in front of our apartment building.

Daddy is strangely quiet on our way up. Even in the bathroom he goes through all the motions without saying a word. Normally, he sings for me.

But things go from bad to worse.

Instead of bringing me to bed, he carries me into his office and places me down on the visitor chair.

“I would like to have a word with you, Cassandra,” he says and walks around to face me from the other side of his desk. Even in his under-shirt and with his trousers he is impressive. The air of a high ranking Imperial officer radiates off him.

“Of course, Daddy,” I gulp, awed and fearful at the same time.

“I know you cannot help being yourself.” His face is emotionless, a smooth surface really. “But what you did today on many levels threatens this family unit. Can you comprehend that?”

I sink my head and nod, not able to stand his gaze any longer.

“Please look at me when I talk to you!”

Even whispered his words explode in my ears like thermal detonators.

“You let Thrawn and Vader enter our little world today. Alexsandr will have a freak when he hears about it and I am not too happy either.” He leans on his desk and I have trouble not to shrink back from him. “I have many secrets, Cassandra. Your safety depends on most of them. I could get executed for some of my actions in the past.”

Tears well up in my eyes and I hate myself for being such a crybaby in front of Daddy.

“I have no clue where we go from here. Thrawn and Vader are a league of their own. To understand them is difficult. Anything can happen now.”

I bite my lip.

“Our only chance is that both men are impressed by you. It might be an advantage to survive all this. But please, show more consideration in future. Not every high ranking officer who serves our Emperor is automatically a good person. I told you so before. We are only humans and seek our advantage for survival. The weak will be wiped out by the stronger ones.”

To follow his line of thought is difficult, but I try my best.

“Do not trust foreigners with all your heart, Cassandra. Deceit is at the core of most human beings and Thrawn is not even human. As for Vader...” He throws up his hands in the air. “… he is but an invalid with dangerous Force powers.”

My heart hurts in my chest. “Will that be all, Daddy?”

“I feel like making you write down the sentence, “I am far too trusting with others.” for at least a hundred times.” A little smile surfaces on his lips. “But I doubt that it will help my course overly much. You are a very wilful little lady.”

We do not gaze at each other too long, because I pipe up, “Can we please hug, Daddy?”

Daddy rushes into my waiting arms eagerly. “You will break me apart,” he whispers. “I don't know when and how, but you will.”

It makes me sad that he would think so.

********************************************************************

When I wake up the next morning I am hot and uncomfortable. I give my best to look healthy, knowing that Daddy has an important day ahead of him. He has to make a presentation at the office.

Unfortunately, Mary does her duty and, before I can stop her, she reports my status immediately.

With the purposefulness of an AT-AT Walker Daddy enters the room.

I smile at him. “Good morning, Daddy!”

Daddy gives me an acknowledging nod. “Little soldier!”

I ache at the sight of him. There is shaving foam on his face still. Modern technique cannot tempt him. He prefers his cartridge razor. For him, it's an aesthetic journey back to the root of his male essence, to real mastery. Once I overheard him telling Uncle Alexandr, “If shaving isn't the most invigorating part of your day, then you're doing it wrong.”

Today Daddy did something unusual though. He cut himself. There is a deep gush on his chin. But he does seem too care for the blood that slowly runs down his throat. He walks up to my bed, his left palm coming down on my forehead.

“38.8 degree Celsius,” he repeats the MV nanny droid's diagnosis. Then he shakes his head, his eyes as determined as his pose. “There is no way that I can go to work and leave you behind like this.”

“That meeting of yours, you need to go, Daddy!” I protest, knowing how many sleepless nights have been spent on that particular presentation.

“Meetings come and go.” He shrugs. “I just have one daughter.”

“You have worked so hard for it,” I say, not able to restrain an edge of impatience with him. “Everybody will be there.”

Daddy huffs, his eyes narrowing. “Everybody.”

I watch him turn away from me, smearing the foam off his face. In slow motion he wipes his hands clean on his thighs. Fortunately, he is in his pyjama trousers still. The Gaberwool of his Imperial uniform is difficult to clean from cosmetic products of any kind. I know because we tried before with skin lotion of mine.

“Everybody,” Daddy repeats in a tone that makes me shiver all over.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” I enquire softly, seeing that he is the opposite of okay. He looks like the lost little bantha calf in one of my favourite bed time stories. Much louder I repeat, “Daddy?”

He does not answer, just stares out of my bedroom window, breathing in an odd rhythm. Then his lips move, but he is not speaking to me. Instead sings with a throaty voice,

_“Everybody knows that the dice are loaded_   
_Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed_   
_Everybody knows the war is over_   
_Everybody knows the good guys lost_   
_Everybody knows the fight was fixed_   
_The poor stay poor, the rich get rich_   
_That's how it goes_   
_Everybody knows”_

Sometimes Daddy has moods like that. They never last long, but make me afraid for his well-being. There is chaos deep inside his beautiful mind.

_“Everybody knows that the boat is leaking_   
_Everybody knows that the captain lied_   
_Everybody got this broken feeling_   
_Like their father or their dog just died_   
_Everybody talking to their pockets_   
_Everybody wants a box of chocolates_   
_And a long-stem rose_   
_Everybody knows”_

His voice booms forth with its warnings and mischievous wit.

_“Everybody knows that you love me baby_   
_Everybody knows that you really do...”_

Daddy stops abruptly and hammers against the glass. Over and over again.

I wince with each hit, worried that he might break his hands.

Finally, he hangs his head and leans his brow against the window.

“It does not matter, Cassie.” His voice seems to come from the other side of the universe. He might as well stand on Dantooine or Endor. “My project is doomed anyway.”

I can see his shoulders becoming even more tense with every word that leaves his mouth.

“First those damned Geonosians, then Galen stepped off unannounced for a hiatus. We were on the verge of greatness.”

He lets out a mighty roar.

“We were so awfully close to providing peace and security for the galaxy.”

Now he bangs his head against the glass. Once, twice.

“Daddy?” I whine.

He spins around and gapes at me for several seconds.

“But you said, that he made up his mind when you visited him on Lah'mu.” Frowning, I hold on to my bed cover. “That the project is back on the track.”

Suddenly, he starts tap-dancing through the room, but he looks pretty grim.

“You are back on the track right, Daddy?”

He starts singing again with his voice drenched in darkest sarcasm.

_“Give 'em the old razzle dazzle_   
_Razzle Dazzle 'em_   
_Give 'em an act with lots of flash in it_   
_And the reaction will be passionate_   
_Give 'em the old hocus pocus_   
_Bead and feather 'em_   
_How can they see with sequins in their eyes?”_

Daddy scoffs.

_“What if your hinges all are rusting?_   
_What if, in fact, you're just disgusting?”_

Having sang thus, he drops to the floor with his arms and legs stretched out wide.

“No, I don't need no _bantha poodoo_ today. Nor do I want Tarkin looking down on me with his gang for not having finished yet. I might as well call in sick and spend the rest of my week with you.”

I prop myself up on my elbows. “You never reported in sick, Daddy. Not for a single day the past four years.”

“How would you know, little soldier?” he exclaims in a gossipy way.

“Uncle Alex said so.”

He makes a briefly disgusted noise. “Spying on me, has he?”

“No,” I stress with my cheeks heated. And it is not the fever doing that. “He just answered my request.”

Daddy gets up to his full impressive height of 1 meter 80. That makes him much smaller than Lord Vader, but to me he will always be a giant. Recently, I tried his military boots on and they were like a fishing boat.

“The roles in this household should be kyber crystal clear.” He makes himself comfortable at the edge of my mattress. “I am the grown-up around here, little soldier. That makes me your commanding officer, does it not?”

There is but mockery and tenderness in his words and I relax a bit. Not too much though. “But as your daughter it is my duty to make sure that you can serve our Empire. And to be honest, sir, you...” I consider hard, but gather the necessary courage anyway, “… you suck pro-pro… hum… profoundly in taking good-care of yourself.”

“Is that so?” he asks in a subdued voice.

I nod.

His smile is crooked. “My life style is perhaps not ideal at times.”

“Unhealthy,” I offer.

“But I fear that I need to finish that space station for the benefit of the Empire. Including you.” He looks down at our mingled fingers. “This galaxy will be safer with the light and insight that my construction will bring.”

“Then everybody will know how clever and talented my Daddy is?” I ask.

He gives me a quirky smile, the one that melts my heart so easily. There are times when he can look like a mooka puppet.

Quickly I add, “Even the Emperor, who never shows up for those meetings will find out how great you are.”

To my astonishment, he starts singing again. Much softer than before.

_“Baby I've been here before_   
_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor_   
_I used to live alone before I knew you_   
_I've seen your flag on the marble arch_   
_But love is not a victory march_   
_It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah”_

********************************************************************

We are in the middle of breakfast, huddled together in my bed with an overloaded tray and Mary switched off, when Uncle Alex jumps into the room like a raiding party.

“I hate to interrupt this unique father-daughter moment,” he says sarcastically and takes off his ISB combat helmet, “But there is a room full of thirty people waiting for a certain project manager.”

Daddy gazes back at my godfather. “Since when does Tarkin list you up for a suicide commando? He knows exactly where I live.”

“Be glad that it is just me, Orson! The viceroy wanted to come along.”

“Are we talking about Sate, the old misfit, or the horned blue beast who degraded me some years ago?”

“Argh, stop making jokes and get dressed!”

Uncle Alex starts to drag away my blanket unceremoniously.

“Whoa!” warns Daddy, pointing his blaster pistol at his comrade. “Don't you dare expose my feverish child to cold air!”

Blinking, my godfather stares down at us. “Just because Cassie is ill, you stay in? Is that right?”

Daddy secures his blaster again and puts back on my night stand.“The nanny droid is incapable to take over from me.”

I can see a lot of emotions flashing over Uncle Alex' pretty face, before he suggests, “I can take it from here.”

_“Negative. This is my parcel.”_ With that Daddy puts our tray away and places a protective arm around my shoulders. “You, Agent Kallus, would only make things worse.”

“Cassie will not die from a mere fever, Director Krennic.”

Each time they start to address each other with their military title, things go from bad to worse. They both have the temper of reeks during mating season.

“Cassie, sweetie, you would never willingly die on me, would you?” Uncle Alex asks sweetly.

I giggle.

“Good.” My godfather nods, seeming somewhat satisfied with my cooperation. “And now do me the favour and push your old, useless dad out of that bed. Use that blaster if necessary to poke him. Oh, and tell him that the Empire always comes first. Not personal indulgence.”

********************************************************************

After another ten minutes Daddy, perfectly dressed in his gala uniform, is on his way to his conference meeting after all. But he throws obscene curses into Uncle Alex' face, when he boards the small military flight, which has landed on our balcony.

“Sure, you can do all that to me and much more when you come back, Orson!” promises my godfather with a sly smirk. “At least you can try and I might show enough kindness to leave you alive.”

Daddy gives a one-finger salute. “Freck you, minger!”

“Not in front of my godchild.” The smile of Uncle Alex is grim. “Now get lost, before Tarkin sends somebody who values your life much less than I already do.”

“I am so sorry, Cassie,” Daddy calls out, hesitating to squeeze himself inside the vehicle.

“It's okay. Please go!” I beg. “You are just ten minutes late.”

Wrapped in a warm blanket, I throne in my godfather's strong arms like a little Empress. Together we watch the top secret military air craft take flight. It is a small one person ship.

“Beautiful,” I say approvingly. “I bet it has a cloaking device that makes it invisible for traffic control and others.”

“Exactly.”

“Stealth technology is not the only reason why you chose it coming here.” I crinkle my nose. “You wanted to stay behind with me.”

His gaze is warm and friendly. “At least you inherited enough intelligence from your mother to survive living with this amoeba. How good of you.”

He talks about my birth-mother so easily. Daddy never does. She is not part of our life. “Did you know her?”

“Not personally, but I read her files.” He gives me a considerate look. “Stay away from drugs, the music scene and finish your studies! Then you can achieve what she never did.”

We start staring into the bright Coruscant morning.

“Can you imagine that Tarkin even considered the Emperor's hatchet man to do my job?” Uncle Alex chuckles. “Lord Vader would have left your poor father permanently damaged, but he would have gotten him to that meeting in half the time necessary.”

The sheer mentioning of my dark knight makes my heart go faster. “But the prince is a true gentleman,” I state. “He would never draw his flame sword to hurt a person. Not him.”

My godfather frowns at me. “How would you know anything about His Lordship?”

“You would have found out anyway,” I say in a rush.

The frown deepens, getting an ugly quality to it. “Found out about what?”

“That he and I talked together at the gallery.” I swallow hard. “Twice.”

“Excuse me, sweetie, you find me a bit confused here.”

A flame that I do not like a single bit has appeared in his blue eyes. The same one burns in Daddy now and again. It carries this spark that I also have witnessed inside Mitth'raw'nuruodo yesterday.

“Did I copy that correctly?” Uncle Alex stresses ever so slowly, sounding like a drill instructor facing a very stupid soldier. “You were out in public since we saw each other last.”

I nod.

“And your damned father brought you straight into the rancor's den?”

I make a face. “Daddy is not damned. And we were not at the zoo. He took me out to the library and there we met Mitth'raw'nuruodo.”

“Who?”

Now Uncle Alex is really agitated and I pray that he will be less furious with me than he is usually with Daddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Lines from the song “Everybody knows” by Leonard Cohen (1988)  
> Also lines from the song “Razzle dazzle”, part of the musical musical “Chicago” (1975)  
> And lines from the song “Hallelujah”, also by Leonard Cohen (1984)  
> My own visit in an art exhibition of Philippe Parreno in the Gropius Building, Berlin (2018)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	8. Chapter 8

Lucky for me my godfather does not follow protocol to get the wanted information out of me. His tortured look is enough to make me talk. So I tell him about how we met Commodore Thrawn. How he warned us about going into the library building. How we ended up bumping into Lord Vader there and then Ob Kaddor.

Truthfully, I also describe my second meeting with the Imperial prince. I put a great effort into repeating every single word that he said to me.

Uncle Alex just listens, silently asking me to interrupt my story for cooling breaks here and there. Each time I take a sip, he also checks my temperature and types it into my data pad.

We are back in my bedroom and he has left the blind folds half closed. But my bedside lamp is on.

“Are you angry now?” I end.

He stares back at me. “Yes. Very. Stark raving mad.”

“Will I get punished now?”

“What do you expect me to do, sweetie? Pull your arms out of their sockets like some mad Wookie? Give you electric shocks?” His gaze turns somewhat solemn. “No, I would never harm you. With or without your father's oath, your life is precious to me.”

I am relieved to hear that, even though I expected nothing else from my godfather.

“But I feel like killing your father off when he returns to this apartment.” There is a foul snarl on his face, distorting it. “When I asked him to take you out for a walk then I did not want him to introduce some of the Empire's most dangerous men to you. What is next? Pestage? Tarkin? What was he thinking?”

********************************************************************

Uncle Alex is in the kitchen, preparing lunch for us, when the door alarm sounds. “Do we expect anybody today?” he calls out to me.

“No.”

All of today's appointments had been cancelled by Daddy when he was dressing.

On his way to the front door, my godfather pops his head in. “Let's hope it's not Vader himself.”

But the identity of the surprise visitor is much, much better.

I almost swoon with delight when a flustered Uncle Alex lets Mitth'raw'nuruodo into my bedroom.

The Chiss carries a huge attaché case with him, but it seems to be light. For he shows no signs of distress carrying it.

“Rumour has it that you are ill, Cassandra,” my new friend says while he pauses at the threshold.

“This is not a rumour,” my godfather stresses. “She has temperature since the early morning hours.”

“Very well then.” The mauve coloured lips of the Chiss form a benevolent smile. “I brought along something that might lift her spirits. In the truest sense of the word.”

Saying thus, Mitth'raw'nuruodo puts the case on my bed. Then he activates the opening mechanism and steps back.

My eyes grow bigger and bigger as a number of mylar balloons rise into the air. They look like fish and start floating around the room as if suspended in water.

“It's literally a pop-up sculptural work,” the commodore explains. “I asked the gallery to lend me some of the exhibit pieces from the closed down Mon Cala chamber. You may keep them. They won't need them back.”

“Great,” mumbles Uncle Alex. “Now your room has turned into a fish bowl.”

“Which was my intention,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo gives back immediately. “Cassandra was sad about all the chambers that are not open for the public eyes any longer.”

“Thank you,” I cheer and gaze up at the strange ballet that the fish balloons perform all over my bedroom. “This is the coolest present that I ever got.”

********************************************************************

Of course I am able to convince my godfather that our special guest has to have lunch with us. While I enjoy myself to the fullest, the two men regard each other as careful as two opponents in a sabacc tournament would. It is a staring contest really. I start asking myself if members of the military are always acting like this when they meet.

While both men are seated on opposite sides of my bed, I have a tray on my lap and enjoy the Chandrilan stew that Daddy had already prepared yesterday. With Mary being deactivated and locked into my closet it will stay a cosy affair. My godfather has baked a fresh soda bread and has cut some fruits for dessert later on.

“You are good with children,” observes Mitth'raw'nuruodo matter-of-factly.

“When you have read my personal file, you should know that I am the middle child in a family of five.”

“I do indeed know that.”

“Having an older sister and a much younger one certainly helped me to practice to be there for this young lady here.”

Their words still prowl around one another like a raiding party. It is unnerving really. I start to think that grown-ups are never honest with one another. That they always hold back. Play games.

A pity really. Uncle Alex and Mitth'raw'nuruodo have so much in common. Not only being loyal servants of our Empire. Why should the things that should bind them hold them apart? It gives me a headache.

“Are you not well, sweetie?” enquires my godfather with a frown.

“If that is the case, I will rather leave you for today,” suggests the commodore.

“No!” I yelp, at the brink of panic.

“I can come back any other day,” suggests Mitth'raw'nuruodo, sounding smooth and practical.

In my mind's eye, I can already see Daddy installing spring guns between our front door and my bedroom. Perhaps he will even plant an entire mine field.

“I would like you to stay very much,” I assert.

The commodore takes hold of my cramped hands. “I will be back. Now get some rest and heal.” He exchanges an intense gaze with Uncle Alex. “Your godfather will show me out.”

********************************************************************

The calmness with which Daddy accepts the visit of Mitth'raw'nuruodo is more frightening than anything else. I'd rather have him swear or throw a tantrum. His face seems to be carved out of feldspar, a type of hard pale stone. I have a chunk of it in my petrology connection box.

“Daddy?” I pipe up, my voice high and uncertain.

He looks away from my godfather and levels his gaze at me in a manner that makes me feel stupid.

A sudden wave of sadness overwhelms me and I hug myself tighter.

I bet this is how he is among fellow Imperial officers, cold and aloof like some distant star in the night sky. For now he seems awfully disconnected with me. Will he hate me forever now? I cannot survive without his sweet love.

Pity is in Uncle Alex' eyes. “Cassie did nothing wrong,” he goes for my defence. “I let that blue beast in. This happened on my watch.”

“Mitth'raw'nuruodo is no beast,” I protest fiercely, my cheeks aflame. “He is an officer and gentleman. And I like his present.”

Daddy's mouth twists, as he thinks over various replies. Finally, he has one. With a somewhat purring voice he sings,

_“Snowman melting from the inside_   
_Falcon spirals_   
_To the ground_   
_So bloody red tomorrows clouds_

_A little piece of you_   
_The little piece in me_   
_Will die”_

Most of the time I like his spontaneous outbursts of song. Right now I don't. “Just because I do like Mitth'raw'nuruodo that does not mean that I love you any less.” Tears water up in my eyes. “Stop being stupid, Daddy!”

“Stupid?” he whispers.

“You will always come first,” I claim. “And you should know that.”

“Even before our beloved Emperor, little soldier?” he inquires.

I feel my face flush to this.

Daddy has a quirky smile for me in stock. “Very well then,” he says. “It can't be helped.”

I watch him spin around and open my cupboard.

“This flat is the new epicentre of society,” he remarks somewhat bitter. “I should hand out directions at the Imperial palace. Our front door should be marked with a huge cross.”

“Have you even listened to me, Daddy?” I protest, anger running through me. “I just said that I love you more than anything in the universe.”

Uncle Alex cuts in impatiently, “You are overreacting, Orson.”

“Am I?”

Daddy does not turn around, just keeps looking into the wardrobe as if the entrance into a magical kingdom would be waiting in there.

“That's because you are such a drama queen,” my godfather goes on. “Nothing of great significance happened in this flat. Some fish balloons got unleashed and your daughter was happy about it. So what?”

With his back turned to us, Daddy stares at my dresses and scarves. “Cassandra, you don't have dungarees, do you?”

“No?!?” I reply very uncertain.

“We will be off-world for a while. The Festival of Stars is upon us. Interstellar travel is encouraged of our government.” Daddy picks up a lone suitcase and places it on the edge of my bed. “It will do you good, seeing other places. Journeys can be educational.”

Uncle Alex steps between the suitcase and Daddy. “Don't you dare to run from Thrawn!”

“It's called change of air. For health reasons.”

“You are not taking her to Chandrilla.”

“This is not about the snowman,” barks Daddy.

“Vader,” murmurs my godfather. “This happens because of him. He scared you out of your wits.”

A deep growl comes from Daddy's throat. He fists his gloved hands. “He approached me right after today's meeting and asked me if I would be okay if he would pay his respects to my daughter from now on. Sounded like the announcement of a betrothal.”

********************************************************************

My heartbeat is awfully loud in my ears, while Uncle Alex still gapes for air like some fish out of water. “Was anybody around to overhear your conversation with Vader?”

“No.” Daddy laughs joylessly. “We were inside an elevator when he asked me. Just the two of us. He had the bloody nerve to put us on emergency hold for the duration.”

“And what did you answer?”

Darkness crawls over Daddy's face, bathing it in shadows. “That he would not ask me this question if he had a child of his own.”

“What happened next?”

“The elevator started moving again and Vader stepped out at the next level without even looking back.”

Uncle Alex and I look at Daddy with big eyes.

“What, should I thank the Force now that I am still alive?” he spits. “I am so not into the Force and you frecking well know why, Alex.”

“You should be grateful that you are still alive, Force or not,” my godfather breathes, his blue eyes full of amazement. “Vader is known to leave the floor scattered with corpses when things get too personal.”

“Children seem to be a touchy subject for him. I wonder why he seems so desperate to be near my daughter. Does he seek redemption? Atonement for something he did in the Clone Wars?”

For some heartbeats nothing happens, then Daddy starts putting some of my dresses into the suitcase. “Dungarees, you still need some. We will go on a shopping tour in Hanna City, you and I.”

Hanna City is the capital of Chandrila. We are going to see my grandfather. Finally.

“Yeah!” I cheer.

“You are kidding, right?” Uncle Alex blinks. “This is a joke, Orson! Nothing but a bad joke.”

“Do I give you that impression?” Daddy raises a quizzical eyebrow. “We really need a marriage guidance counsellor.”

I giggle.

“Sweetie, would you mind if I knock your dad down?” my godfather asks, an ugly snarl on his face.

“Then stop acting like my Missus, Alex! Freck it!”

Of course they are not lovers. This is not how Daddy ticks. Nor does Uncle Alex. But due to me they have become a sort of patchwork family. I just wish they could learn to see the benefit of it.

My godfather murmurs something rather rebellious under his breath. Then he hisses at Daddy, “You are not taking her off Coruscant! End of story!”

“When I have the choice between my old man and the Emperor's black hound, then I won't go for Vader.”

Blue eyes glare into blue eyes, shooting sparks in all directions.

“I really would like to see the farm,” I voice warm and soft.

“See?” The triumph in Daddy's voice is unmistakable. “The lass knows what's good for her.”

“Why?” My godfather looks at me, his expression stern. This is how he might look at work when questioning people and their motives. Spies do that. “Explain!”

I bite my lip. “Since Daddy spoke about Gramps…?”

“Who?” he interrupts me.

“Grandpa,” I quickly explain. “I can't keep wondering how he is.”

“Half-dead,” Uncle Alex answers straight out.

“C'mon, my old man had a stroke, but he keeps going,” protests Daddy with a deep frown.

My godfather throws up his hands. “One half of his body is paralysed. He can't talk and he can hardly see.”

“Oh!” Tears fill my eyes. “Then we must see Gramps. With us on Chandrila he won't be alone any more.”

Now Daddy's features soften. “So much compassion. Even for a total stranger.” He sits down on the bed and takes both of my hands. “If I would let you, you would try to embrace the entire universe with those frail arms of yours. Thrawn, Vader, you see the person behind a rank.”

“Our Empire is built on the love and wisdom of our leader, is it not?” I am slightly confused. “Is it not my duty to show everybody how wonderful Palpatine is by trying to be good? By living up to his example?”

Daddy and Uncle Alex remain as silent as two stone statues.

“Have I said something wrong?” I want to know.

“See, Alex, this is why I need you to train my little soldier in combat.” Stubbornness radiates off Daddy. “It is about time she learns to protect herself.”

“The child hardly can leave her bed on her own. Training with me is out of the question.”

“Oh Cassandra will be able to do much, much more when we are back. All of her therapists and doctors are on their holidays for the Festival of Stars anyway.”

They act like I am not in hearing range. Like I am not in front of them. I hate that.

“Field training, really?” Uncle Alex rolls his eyes. “You have not even asked my schedule for the upcoming days, Orry. Not everybody gets holiday leave.”

“I need the best instructor that there is. For I do not trust myself to be patient enough.”

********************************************************************

The white wood-frame house on the hill looks like a painting from a children's book. It has two stores and an attic underneath a pitched roof with green tiles. The shutters of the windows are also green and so are the trim and the eaves.

Next to the farm building is a little apple orchard with fairly young trees. Their logs seem to be as small as my arms.

“Damn, you Gita!” Daddy curses so spontaneously, that Uncle Alex and I are equally startled.

“What's wrong, Orson?”

The ST 149 stays on course and flies as smoothly as ever. Yet I notice a slight tremble in Daddy's left hand.

“That Anil cow made the trees grow back,” he snaps. “I bet she used the ashes for that. Is Force magic punishable by law? Can we get a death warrant for her? Please tell me that we can do!”

I frown, not understanding a word he says.

“Keep your hat on!” tuts my godfather. “Gita did exactly what you asked her to do.”

“Oh yeah?” Daddy murmurs and starts the landing procedure for the Delta-class T-3c shuttle. “Remembering Ina by using a spoon full of ash as plant food was not part of my instructions.”

“An urn on the mantle piece is not the best place for a free spirit.”

In alarm, Daddy jerks his head towards Uncle Alex. “Where do you store her ash?”

“I climbed up a disused communication tower located in the plains outside Capital City. And then I let Ina go. Just like that.”

“What, you spread her ashes all over Lothal?”

“It was her last known home. It seemed right.”

********************************************************************

They still argue while the three of us leave the star ship. And they keep going all the way to the front porch.

I fall back to stop my hover chair next to one of the trees. It's small, but already very pretty. It won't carry fruits for a long time though.

“Hallo, there!” I beam and reach out to touch the bark of the baby tree.

A tingling sensation fills me, chasing all the way from my fingertips straight into my brain.

“Wow!” I get out, awed.

I am still dizzy when Daddy comes running back for me. “Really?” he complains and sets the hover chair back in motion.

“The tree just told me that there once was a fire here,” I say, impressions still swimming by. “It grew from a seed that survived.”

“Imagine that,” Daddy gives back, his voice clipped.

“Do you know anything about that fire?” I want to know.

“Must have happened when I wasn’t involved.”

Somehow he does not sound very convincing.

“Are you not happy that the orchard is back, Daddy?”

“I'll dance a jig later, okay? When I have unpacked the suitcases and upgraded the HoloNet in this dumb hole for work.”

I pout. “This is no dumb hole. It's your home.”

“It used to be home.” There is something cold and implacable in his voice. “Then I grew out of it. Like your apple tree from the cold, dark ground.”

I will not have him act this sullen during our entire stay. “Daddy?”

He pauses the hover chair. “I am behaving dreadfully again, aren't I?”

I nod.

His lips brush my hair. “This home-coming thing does not feel pretty for me. Fact is, the old man and I never got on well. I was the misfit, the disturbance in his otherwise well-organized farm life.”

“People change, Daddy. For the worse and for the better.

“Agrippa won't be happy to see me.”

“You don't know that,” I plead.

“I know that he will learn to love you in no time, Cassie dear. That is all I know.”

He places his hands on my shoulders, while I keep looking at the porch, where Uncle Alex made himself comfortable in a rocking chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Lines from the song “This is not America” by David Bowie (1985)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	9. Chapter 9

The smell of wood-polish and alcoholic liniment hangs in the air, when we enter the living-room. There is a large robot with a green-blue surface. I recognize it as an altered version of a 2-1B surgical droid.

“Don't be alarmed, Jay!” offers my godfather. “I am Agent Alexsandr Kallus. We have met at Ina's funeral service five years ago.”

Metal eyes scan Uncle Alex. “Positive,” the robot confirms after some seconds. “You are welcome, Master Alexsandr. And so are your two companions.”

There is a sound from somebody we cannot see.

“Master Agrippa, you seem to have keen visitors today.”

There is some grunting.

“Master Agrippa would like to know the reason for your in-person visit, sir,” the robot unit translates.

“I am here to present his granddaughter to him,” suggests my godfather.

Something like a laugh comes from the wing chair that is facing the opposite direction.

“Master Agrippa says...”

Now Daddy has decided to reveal himself. “That he is an old oaf and still knows nothing about little children and their feelings, no change there then,” he says in a rush. “C'mon, Alex. This was a mistake. Let us go back to Coruscant. Cassie, there is nothing of great consequence here. Just some bitter old man using a piece of junk as his mouthpiece.”

A muffled sound makes the geriatric care droid lower its metal head. “There is a little girl in a hover chair, Master Agrippa. She looks nothing like your son. Her hair is ginger and her eyes… let me scan... they are deep brown.”

Something like a yelp is to be heard now.

“Of course I can turn the chair around, Master Agrippa. But the child is not a very spectacular sight.”

A deep groan follows.

“I am sorry, Master Agrippa. This comment was out of place.”

I start laughing. “My MV nanny droid has a weird programming like that, too. Daddy never took time to fix it. But it gives her a strong minded character.”

A pair of blue vulture eyes, reminding me very much of Daddy's, gazes at me. The face of the old man has many wrinkles and is slightly yellowish. I am not scared though.

“Hi there, Gramps. I am Cassandra.” I flash my brightest smile. “Daddy adopted me six months ago. My mom was a spice addict. This is what Child Protective Services and everybody else told me.”

I look straight into a face that is marked by illness and hardship.

“Mom and Daddy once were lovers. So when she came knocking at his door, asking for money, he informed the Services about me. Very reasonable of him, was it not?”

The old eyes water and a sound like a sniff is to be heard.

“Master Agrippa says that Orson might be his son after all.”

“Pah,” Daddy spits out. “The girl was in need of a reasonable grown-up. So I filed for adoption. Sometimes a child can be trapped in a bad place and needs a guardian angel to bring change along.”

There is a cough, coming from a pair of thin lips.

“Master Agrippa would like to remark that you should stop talking and get some refreshments out of the kitchen instead, Master Orson.”

********************************************************************

Underneath his rough exterior my grandfather Agrippa is a kind and warm man. That his own son cannot see this makes me sad.

I hope that I will never lose Daddy's love. To end up on his bad side must be unbearable. He can be a really nasty enemy.

We have Caramel Slice, consisting of a shortbread base. The next-door neighbour, Gita Anil, has brought it around during her last visit. Jay informs us that the cheerful flowers in the vase are also a gift from her.

Daddy and Uncle Alex exchange one of their military looks. It tells me that Mistress Anil will not be welcome around here as long as they are here with me. This is unfair. Her cake is nice and she brought the apple trees back.

I swallow my questions. Now is not the right moment to ask them. Things are already awkward between Daddy and his 'old man', as he refers to him.

Not much later it is time for my afternoon nap.

Daddy carries me upstairs and I dare not to protest. Thunder clouds hang around his deep furrowed brows. “You have been ill when we left Coruscant,” he points out. “I am not taking any chances here. You will rest until dinner.”

We reach the second story of the house.

He opens a nearby door. It is a room full of empty fruit crates and boxes.

“Of course he had to turn my room into a lumber room,” Daddy remarks sourly and closes the door again. “Let´s try the official guest-room then.”

We are rewarded with a bright chamber that has a floral wallpaper and a pretty quilt on the bed.

“Would you mind sharing?” Daddy asks hopefully, his ear tips slightly reddish.

“What about Uncle Alex?”

“He has to check in with the local garrison for tonight.” There is a grin on his lips. “Until we have brought my old room back in order, he can sleep on a sofa in the living-room I suppose.”

I have Daddy taking off my shoes.

“Can you tell me a story?” I beg.

“In the afternoon?”

I bite my underlip. “Tell me of the boy that you once were.”

“Can I tell you about the Silver Sea instead. Or the Gladean State Parks.”

He is still avoiding his past. I wonder how long he can keep it up.

********************************************************************

I wake up in the middle of the night, strange dreams plaguing me. The pictures that I saw make no sense to me. For now I dismiss them as an overdose of sugar.

“Hey, there!” Daddy greets me from the window. “You were supposed to sleep, little soldier.”

I gasp for I can see the outlines of his laser blaster. It is directed towards the horizon where the Anil property must lie. The target pipe is switched on night vision. “And why are you wide awake, Daddy?”

“Indigestion. Must be that stupid cake,” he lies.

“Are you expecting somebody?” I probe on.

He lowers his weapon, laughing a bit dryly. “A visitor should be given a warm welcome. Not a graze shot.”

“The prince would not come here,” I try to calm Daddy.

“Prince?” He chuckles. “Cassie, dear. Vader is Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces.”

“And you think that you can shoot him down in the dark? Just like that. One of the most important men within the Empire?”

“For you I would try.”

“There is no trying. Only the Force,” I remind Daddy.

He walks up to the night-stand, placing the DT-29 heavy blaster pistol on it. “Just a couple of hours under this roof and you give me a speech like a true sect member. You have not read any flyers of the Church of the Force by chance? The house used to be full of them. Worse than blowflies really.”

I shake my head.

“Just asking.” He seems more relaxed now.

“Could you please engage the safety of your weapon?” I beg him.

“I am glad you noticed, little soldier.” He pats my head and I can feel his pride ebbing into me.

Within a few seconds the area is secured again.

I sigh full of relief.

Daddy starts getting undressed. Of course he had to show off in his gala uniform. By now my eyes have adjusted enough to see him folding his army trousers neatly. He keeps his long John on and a ripped shirt.

“Have you eaten a broom lately?” I ask into the silence.

“What makes you believe that?”

“You need to be very brave now, Daddy.” I lower my voice on purpose. That makes him come even closer. “Nobody will bother us here on Chandrila. No matter how trigger-happy you are.”

He grunts. “Prepare to get boarded, little soldier. There will be no mercy!”

I get tickled until I basically cough the safe-word. “P-power con-convertor.”

Daddy stops immediately. “Are you finished being smart for tonight?”

“Yes,” I get out, thinking that we need a better and much shorter safe-word.

“Say again?”

I roll my eyes at him, but he cannot see it in this light. “Yes, sir!” I stress.

“Roger that.” He lands a good-night kiss on my brow. “Sleep tight.”

With a deep sigh, he drapes himself around me.

“Are you going to act silly during our entire stay?” I whisper.

He leans his face into my neck. “Curious is too small a word to describe you.”

“What is wrong about Mistress Anil?” I move on. “She seems to be awfully nice.”

There is some grumbling against my skin. “No impact. No idea.”

“Daddy, please!” I say. “Stay reasonable.”

“I have some history with her sons.” His fingers start playing with one of my pigtails. “Are you happy now?”

Still no details. Then it really must have been bad business between them. Each time he is not boasting about a subject, there is a much darker background.

“But you are a grown-up man now,” I reason.

“Some things should never be forgotten or forgiven, Cassandra.”

I wait some heartbeats before I throw in. “Can't you find it in...”

“No.”

“But...”

“Over and out.”

I sigh.

When the radio silence starts getting real uncomfortable, he rubs his nose against my right cheek. “We need to make a deal here, Cassie dear.”

“Okay, I listen.”

“Things have been very rough at work for me the past weeks. I start feeling like… like a true Machiavellian character.”

Whatever that is, it sounds nasty.

“I don't have job security, for I am far from the top of the Imperial chain of command.”

Quickly, I turn around to face him. “But you are such a wonderful architect, Daddy.”

“Am I really? I do not even know how to build up a stable relationship. All that I ever learned is how to shoot somebody who outdraws me.”

I snuggle against him full force. “Hey, I am here with you and I love you, Daddy. You are the best.”

“Tsk, I am an old grinch. You deserve better!”

“No,” I protest gently. “Silly Daddy. I would not want you any different.”

He starts stroking my back. “Are you sure? My skin is not blue.”

“Stop talking, Daddy!” I say in a low voice. “Let us both get some sleep.”

He takes a deep breath and obviously comes to reason. There is no arguing, not even singing. Not much later he starts snoring.

I keep lying wide awake in his arms for a while, listening to the sound of the grass sea outside. It seems as familiar as his warmth. It puzzles me.

Since I came here it feels like I know this place. But he did not tell me anything about it before.

I concentrate on his steady heartbeat. It is like a drum.

Actually, it was the first sound that I heard when I woke up almost nine months ago. My entire memories of our meeting are jumbled. But they are filled with love and trust.

Thoughtfully, I let my fingers wander over Daddy's throat. I feel his vibrant pulse.

For some reason my lungs had not been fully operational when he had found me in my mother's flat. It had taken two months of therapy to get them into shape. It had been necessary for me to wear a breathing mask during that period.

All that I know, all that I am revolves around Daddy.

Perhaps it is better when I do not remember my mother. Or the run-down place in which we lived. Sometimes it is a blessing not to know, just to live. Uncle Alex calls this _“Carpe diem!”_ which means _“Seize the day!”_ in some ancient language he happens to know.

********************************************************************

For brekkie I get smashed avocado on toast with poached eggs. Gramps and I have to eat without Daddy. He is upstairs, bellowing loud enough at Galen Erso that we can pick up most of their conversation. His part anyway.

“There is this funny card game. It's called _'Saboteur'_. There are some dwarfs who seek gold in a mine. The saboteur is the one who tries to make everybody's life miserable. But you know who actually is the greatest pain in the extension version? The crystallographer. Because he has his own goals.”

There is ugly laughter. At times Daddy can cackle like a Hutt.

“I don't know how you keep betraying me, Galen, but I have the feeling that you do. And it makes me look bad in the Emperor's graces.”

Something in the guest bedroom gets broken.

“Get your work done or I swear, that I will find other ways of motivation. Milio, Onopin, Uravan, Argonne and Vann – basically your entire team – should start to pay the price for your failure.”

Gramps looks at me sad and forlorn.

“Stop that whining, Galen! It does not suit you. You sound like Lyra, when she dared to threaten me. We know how that ended, don't we?”

I try to finish my plate nicely, my head lowered.

Of course Daddy will be charming with me, but he will act like a villain with grandfather Agrippa and Uncle Alex for the rest of the day.

“I will give you another week. My patience with your work attitude is used up, Galen. If you will not deliver satisfactory results by then, there will be a hole in this universe. It will have your shape.”

Not much later the door gets smashed so loud that I fear its hinges are damaged for good now.

Daddy tramples downstairs like a herd of banthas.

I prepare for the worst.

Uncle Alex has given me his comlink data.

********************************************************************

“Might you have some fruit juice for me, Cassie dear?” Daddy asks kindly when he enters the room, his features even and relaxed. Nothing from his earlier tantrum can be seen. To my surprise, he wears dungarees and a woollen sweater that I have never seen before.

“What happened to the uniform?” I press out.

“Not today and for the rest of the week. I am not in the asylum at present. They have to give me all my open vacation days at some point, you know. The Festivals of Stars is perfect for that.”

Fully ignoring his father, Daddy gets seated on the empty chair next to me.

“How kind of Jay to carry you downstairs! I needed some moments to wrap up things with some unable scientists.”

I smirk. “So we heard.”

“They are like droids, really. Deadlines and instructions should be overly clear at any given time. Otherwise they are lazy.” He helps himself to a big portion of poached eggs and adds a gracious amount of avocado. “I hope that I made myself overly clear today.”

“Do we still have a door?” I throw in for consideration.

He blushes. “Sorry about that. But sometimes Galen gets the worst out of me.”

“Is there a door still?” I repeat.

“Of course.” Daddy hides his mouth in a glass of fruit juice.

“Remember, this is still Gramps' home and we are but guests!”

He gives his old man an especially vile glance. “Oh, that message is clear to me.”

The geriatric nurse robot, who has towered in a corner of the living-room, comes to life. “Master Agrippa would like to know what your plans are for today.”

“My daughter and I will be shopping in Hanna City.” Daddy's blue eyes sparkle. “And if your master is nice to me, I will buy some groceries for him as well. All he has to say is 'pretty please'. He can do that with his eyes if the mouth won't move.”

********************************************************************

The sky above is blue with fleecy clouds. This is my first time in a rural landspeeder. I only have been on military transporters until now. It is very exciting. I wonder what holds this soapbox together. Daddy steers it with skill though. I bet he can fly anything he wants to. Even a Thranta.

“An Imperial credit for your thoughts, little soldier,” Daddy smiles. His eyes are hidden by sunglasses just as mine.

“I just wondered if you could master one of those Alderaanian flying creatures.”

His laughter is light and carefree. “You just won yourself an ice cream.”

We float by countless meadows with nerfs on them. Tintolive trees line the country road that we are on. In between I also spot Garren trees. Bulabirds are in the air.

I put all my questions on hold for the time being. It is very peaceful.

Daddy is brimming with mirth. The airflow tosses his hair, but it does not cross him. His military conscience has stayed behind at the farm house. He is a completely private person right now.

“Do you want to take control?” he asks out of the blue.

“Me?”

“Who else?” he grins. “Unless we picked up a blind passenger.”

“B-but I-I don't k-know h-how,” I stammer.

With great gentleness Daddy takes my hands and puts them on the handles. His fingers stay above mine and his feet remain at the breaks plus the accelerator.

Our breaths synchronize and I feel calmness flooding me.

“Please don't let go!” I whisper.

_“Stand by!”_ he suggests and kisses my right cheek.

********************************************************************

Daddy is a very patient flight instructor, even though I hit one or two fence posts on our way to Hanna City.

“Your grandfather will be very understanding with you, Cassie dear.” He hardly cares for the damage. “Out here a girl should know how to fly an X-34.”

I have an idea what comes next, but I try too keep the vehicle on track.

“We will start blaster training in two days from now,” Daddy says and leans back in the seat, his hands on his neck and the elbows relaxed.

“But,” I pipe up.

“You don't want an _Alpha Charlie_ , _rainbow_?”

He can keep his verbal reprimand for all I know. There is no way of protest. My fate is sealed. Obviously, I am a new recruit going through basic training.

 

 

_ **Explanation of military terms:** _

_ _ Stand by! _ _ _ =  to wait for an uncertain amount of time.  
_

_ _ Alpha Charlie  _ _ _ **=** _ verbal reprimand 

_ _ rainbow _ _ _ = A new recruit in basic training.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> The fan fic story “The White Stuff” by the JC user Findswoman for the term Lactokokkus gulbaricus and the organization called Imperial Bureau of Foodstuffs and Consumables (IBFC)  
> The on-line article “Orson Krennic: The Machiavellian of 'Rouge One'” by James Akinaka for Fandom.wikia.com (December 2016)  
> Ben Mendelsohn quotes taken from the actor himself in “Ben Mendelsohn: Making most of second chances – The Feed”, a YouTube interview by Marc Fennell (22.06.2017)  
> Receipts from “The Star Wars Cook Book: Wookie Cookies” by Robin Davis (1998) & “The Star Wars Cook Book II: Darth Malt” by Frankie Frankeny & Wesly Martin (2000)  
> The most important sentence of the BBC comedy series “Are you being served?” (1972 and 1985)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	10. Chapter 10

“I wonder what Blue Milk ice cream tastes like,” I voice while I gaze into the display of the ice parlour.

Daddy huffs. “No way I am going to feed my child Bantha poodoo.”

The ice cream vendor, a blue-skinned Pantoran in his late sixties, grants him a dark look for that remark.

“What?” Daddy shrugs. “Everybody knows that Bantha milk has abnormally high levels of Lactokokkus gulbaricus. The IBFC should investigate that.”

I wonder why he has to drag the Imperial Bureau of Foodstuffs and Consumables into this.

The Pantoran gets nervous. “We have 32 other types of ice cream, sir.”

“I would like to try Blue Milk, still,” I say stubbornly.

“It's not like the Blue Milk from our fridge.”

“Of course it is, Daddy. Blue Milk is the same everywhere in the galaxy, right?"

“Oh Cassie,” Daddy tuts. “This one here will give you a blue tongue and, in the worst case scenario, diarrhoea.”

I keep looking cute.

“Don't test it!”

Not only do I get one scoop of Blue Milk, but two.

“Would you like to have sauce on that?” the ice cream vendor inquires with a winning smile. “We have Chocolate, Caramel, Joghan Berry...”

“I would like to enjoy it just as it is.”

The Pantoran looks very pleased.

********************************************************************

Some minutes later I start digging into my bowl. Then I make a face. I have a terrible idea. “Could it be that you colour the milk back home with blue food gel dye, Daddy?”

“Possibly.” He tries to look elsewhere.

I keep my gaze straight on his poker face.

“What?” He fiddles around with his sun glasses.

“I never had the real thing before, Daddy,” I complain.

“The original does not come with sugar and vanilla flavour.” He makes an extensive hand movement. “Tatooine is a dust ball very far away from the rest of the galaxy. They lack of everything there. Especially good taste. This is why I use nerf milk.”

I raise an eyebrow.

He throws up his hands. “Just tell me that you do not like my version of Blue Milk any longer and I will quit producing it immediately.”

His offer makes me smile. “I do like your version very much. Even though you cheat.”

“Very well then.” He nudges my nose. “I just hope you do not want to have the real deal every time now. I will certainly not throw Wookie pups into the blender when I am doing those chocolate cookies.”

“Bah, Daddy!” I shriek.

His amusement grows. “Imagine what a Jawa Jive Milkshake would look like otherwise! Or Jabba Jelly.”

I try to make a sour face, but I fail. “Your hot TIE fighter dogs are the best.”

“Oh the costs for a TIE. Don't start me on that one!” he giggles. “My project though is more expensive.”

I look at him expectantly.

“It's an estimate of 852,000,000,000,000,000 Imperial credits. And that's just the cost of steel production.”

Now I understand his constant nervousness about it. “Are you very mad with Mister Erso?”

He carefully scans the ice cream parlour, but it is just us inside. Everybody else sits outside. The ice cream vendor is nowhere to be seen.

“I want to understand, Daddy,” I reason with a sad, yet encouraging smile. “How is construction work going at present?”

It breaks out of him in one go. _“Everyone's in distress. I mean a bad set is when things are going wrong. Erm, 'cause it's a supply chain. It's an army, right? It's a little supply chain. So if the supplies aren't gettin' to the frontline troops. If they are not getting the things they need, they can't do the job as well as they should be. If they're told we gonna be moving this way and… but instead we're going over that way then it's problems. So it's about communication. And it's about supplies. And if those things go wrong. And if they systematically stay going wrong, then you tend to have pretty grumpy, stressed out people.”_

I find the physical strength to stand, walk up to him and wind my arms up around him. “Poor Daddy!”

With a thick voice he murmurs, “Can I have that in written form?”

I nod eagerly. “With a heart and everything.”

“I will hang it up in my office, if I may.” He holds me tight, his nose in my hair.

********************************************************************

Not much later we hit the shops. Since we do not have the hover chair with us, Daddy carries me around. His energy level seems endless today.

We are not going into the posh boutiques, but into stores for farmers and outdoor equipment. Daddy is on the practical side of life, even though Uncle Alex regards him as vain.

“You have enough dresses, Cassie dear. What you really need are reasonable dungarees. And I will buy you lace-ups. Perhaps a pair of wellies, too.”

After we have been into two shops already, Daddy pauses in front of the third one. It says _'Kimberley's'_ in huge Aurebesh letters.

“My parents always brought me here when I needed new clothing,” he admits.

I am very proud to be part of the Krennic family tradition now.

“Well, let's go inside then, Cassie dear!”

A little bell jingles happily when we cross the threshold.

Wide-eyed I look around.

Time clearly has stopped here at _'Kimberley's_ '. This department store seems not to have changed since the founding days of the Old Republic.

I am charmed immediately.

There are no computer animated screens but old-fashioned mannequins. No unnerving background music is playing. Instead of a service droid an elderly lady stands at the counter, smiling encouragingly at us. She has violet coloured hair. “Are you being served?” she asks.

“Later on, perhaps,” Daddy replies, putting a lot of _charme_ into his words. “For now we are only looking around.”

“Very well, sir.” Her smile is as sweet and natural as yesterday's cake.

“Dungarees,” Daddy mutters to himself, taking off his sunglasses. “Where do we start looking?”

I follow his good example and take off my glasses as well.

The lighting is pleasant for my eyes.

His gaze lightens up. “Ah, there we go. 3 o'clock.”

“Out of the way, low lives!” somebody shouts and pushes us aside brutally.

********************************************************************

Daddy manages not to fall onto the floor with me. Once he gets hold of a display table, he presses a button on his comlink. I know exactly who he will drag into this. It is certainly not Uncle Alex. He gazes hard at the sniggering man.

It makes me sad to see that the stranger is an Imperial officer cadet. Two blue rank bars. Due due to the grey-green uniform colour I know he is in the navy.

“Name and service number,” Daddy says to the stranger, his voice only slightly above a whisper.

“Hey, Fi, this farmer here wants to put up a fight with us,” the officer cadet calls out to his companion, who must be busy somewhere at the back of the shop.

“Leave the locals alone!” comes the immediate answer from one of the changing rooms.

“How when that scum is basically all over the place.”

“Scum!?!”

The sound is explosive in the air.

“Daddy,” I whine. “Please don't let this escalate!”

“Me?” he spits out.

“Please, don't hurt him, Daddy!”

The stranger glares at me. “What did you just say, you useless cripple?”

“How can you tell that my daughter has a condition?” Daddy inquires. His voice sounds as if it got strained through a dirty sock.

“Because she looks daft.”

“Really?”

A sane person would stop talking to Daddy when he is like that, but the young man goes on. “Children like that are a burden to our health care.”

Five Death Troopers swarm in like a cloud of angry Coruscant city bees.

“Wha-wha-what?” the officer cadet squeaks, his eyes wide in terror.

I hide my face when the young man is taken into immediate custody. His face ends up being pressed against the floor by a black metal boot.

Daddy's body guards must have come to the planet in their own transport. They are obligatory for members of his office. I had already wondered about their mandatory. Night shadows, that's what they are. Even in plain daylight.

“It took you a while, DT-L21,” Daddy remarks reproachfully.

The elite soldier's voice is distorted through the mask and the in-built comlink. “It is hard to believe that one of our own should act out against you and the child, sir.”

“Entitled _flyboys_ ,” Daddy says joylessly. “This is what the navy is all about.”

“Sir, sir!” somebody calls.

I allow myself to watch the scene again.

The doomed officer's companion hops towards us on one leg. Obviously, he was just testing out hiking boots. His face is pale and his hazel eyes are flickering nervously. Since his cap is missing, I can see his brown hair.

“Look at that, DT-L21!” Daddy switches on one of his seductive killer smiles. _“FUBAR.”_

The man almost hits the ground.

“Make that _TARFU_ ,” Daddy corrects himself.

_“Roger that, sir!”_

Red-faced, the officer cadet comes to a hold right in front of us. “Sir, my bunkmate spoke out of place.”

“For which I would like to break his jaw now,” Daddy replies. His voice could freeze fire right now. “But my daughter already got subjected to some verbal violence here.”

“Daddy!” I beg.

He places a finger on my lips. “Lock it up!” he says matter-of-factly.

In a military setting, it usually means to stand at attention.

I do as I am bidden.

“Thanks for your cooperation.” He blows a kiss against my cheek and then his full concentration wanders back to DT-L21 and the figure under the Imperial's boot. “You may act on my behalf once you are outside the building. Oh please, don't be gentle!”

He pauses and I start holding my breath.

“And since this _rainbow_ here makes mockery of handicapped people, make sure he gets a decent handicap himself. One that ends his military career forever more, but won't hinder him to do farming on some Outer Rim planet. I am sure we have a colony that needs hard labour somewhere.”

I let out a yelp.

“But, sir, with all due respect, sir!” protests the cadet officer with just one boot on.

“Firmus,” yelps his companion from the floor. “Don't! This guy is ISB in civvies. Just walk off, mate! I deserve that. You can do with me whatever you want. Court martial. Firing squad. Just leave my bunkmate out of it.”

********************************************************************

Despite the odds, Daddy gets a grip on himself and starts to listen. The officer that is not shivering on the floor, gives us his service number and introduces himself as officer cadet Piett. “I can understand that you are angry with my companion, sir,” he says, his eyes scanning Daddy anxiously.

“Angry comes not even close to what I feel.”

The young man gives me an apologetic look. “Your daughter is rightfully upset, too.”

“This is exactly why I contacted my personal bodyguards. Instead of a peaceful father-and-daughter day in town, we got harassed. By two freckin' _rainbows_.”

Officer cadet Piett swallows hard. “But Death Troopers, surely, sir, there must be another way to deal with the situation.”

DT-L21 and his team of four still stand down, but at one wink of Daddy they will come into action.

I am about to pee into my pants. Confrontations like that are dreadful for me.

“Who is your commanding officer?” Daddy asks, coming to more rational terms about his wish for revenge again.

“We are part of a special task force in the Ciutric Hegemony,” Firmus Piett offers. “Moff Luc granted me and my bunkmate, officer cadet Cassido, special shore leave for extraordinary services.”

Daddy's eyes turn into slits. “Then have a good look at my daughter again, gentlemen. She ain't no bloody pirate from your pitiful hegemony. Via her useless mother she is an innocent victim of spice addiction. To call her a cripple is certainly not how you should cultivate your contacts in the Core Worlds.”

Even though I know he is giving the two cadet officers a lesson by saying this, I am embarrassed. Not for myself, but for my mother. I bet she was not useless all the time. Before her addiction she must have led a normal life.

“Good day, gentlemen!"

With that Daddy marches towards the exit and I dare not to ask him about the dungarees.

“We are back tomorrow,” he whispers suddenly and kisses my brow. “But I need some fresh air right now.”

********************************************************************

Since the Death Troopers are not following us, I suppose that they are taking down more personal data of the two officer cadets.

“Where are we going next?” I accompany my words with a little poke into Daddy's ribs.

His anger clears. “You do not buy the crap that you are useless, do you?” he asks, anxiety in his voice.

“I am the centre of your universe, Daddy. How could I be useless?”

His embrace strengthens. “You will learn to run and to dance. Soon you will know how to wield a blaster. And I will show you how to fly.”

“The ST 149?” I wonder.

“Any ship.”

I consider his offer and then I add, “Might you have some time for swimming lessons first?”

********************************************************************

Lake Sah'ot glitters in the midday sun. I am wearing my new pink swimsuit, diving goggles, a snorkel and the floaties. Right in front of me is my smiley father. He has not only taken off his sun glasses. His floral bathers from the men's department suit him well. The water around us is about 1 metre 20 deep. We are still in the marked out learner area.

“See, you are a natural, Cassie dear,” he praises me, his arms stretched out wide. “You must be a mermaid after all.”

I zoom towards him. There is no weakness in my legs any more. My arms also know what to do in the water.

Something brushes my belly. It is large.

I shriek but stay on course.

Uncle Alex makes it into Daddy's arms before me. “Missed me, darling?” he jokes.

“Dope!”

They try to push each other under water for a while and I circle them with a smirk.

Suddenly, a stranger joins us. He is a giant of a man with brown hair and hazel eyes. And he moves through the water with the brute force of a AT-AT.

“Oh, Cassie, there is no reason to fear,” my godfather calms me. “This is Max, an old pal of mine. He is just back from one of his usual 'suicide missions' and has been granted special vacation for his extraordinary services.”

I look into a face that is not exactly unfriendly, but makes me shiver anyway. “Maximilian Veers,” he says with a perfect military bow. “It is an honour to meet you, Miss Krennic.”

Not sure whether to shake hands or not, I swim behind Daddy and cling on to his back.

“Hey, this is one of the good guys. Assault Armour Division. Can't get any better than that, Cassie!”

I do not agree with Daddy and stay on edge.

********************************************************************

Not much later, the four of us sit under a huge white parasol. Daddy has lent two more sun chairs for our guests. Even on a crowded day like this the beach club has plenty of chairs in stock.

Maximilian Veers has doughnuts with him. Since Daddy gave up smoking he craves sugar for some reason. His strict fitness training stops him getting the belly of a Toydarian though.

“Where you got those, Max?” Uncle Alex wonders, helping himself to fish one out of the box.

“Biscuit Baron.”

“House Tagge owns that chain, right?” Daddy makes a face like a little sullen boy. “They ain't doing the dough right.”

“Yeah, I know,” agrees Maximilian Veers. “I miss Dex's Doughnuts, too. But what can you do.”

“Too bad they shut that Besalisk down a couple of years ago. His shredded Ishi Tib-cracked coconut were the best,” Daddy sighs. “They were the only reason to pop by for a visit in Co-Co Town after a rough day at the office.”

This comes as a surprise to me. Usually Daddy does not enter that part of Coruscant at all.

“I loved the dark matter sprinkles most,” adds Uncle Alex, a longing note in his voice.

“Perhaps the powdered Christopian sugar doughnuts were his downfall,” the special forces officer speculates.

“Nay,” my godfather states. “Neither the Clone Wars or the IBFC had anything to do with it. He helped those… Midi-chlorian ridden lice to flee the crime scene.”

All three men nod in unison.

I start to wonder what Midi-chlorians are. Perhaps I should look up that particular type of parasite later on. Daddy lets me have his data pad occasionally.

“His involvement did not only cost old Dex his doughnut shop, but the diner as well.” Uncle Alex looks grim.

“He had it coming.”

Maximilian Veers blinks, remembering me. “Would you like a doughnut, too, Miss Krennic?”

“I am afraid that my daughter already had enough sugar today,” Daddy declines his doughnut offer. Instead he places a piece of water melon into my outstretched hands that are still wrinkled from my time in the water.

“You sound like my wife,” the Imperial officer smiles.

“I am the only parent that Cassie has left,” Daddy points out.

“My Zev, I mean Zevulon, is quiet a handful. He just got eight. I could not imagine raising him on my own. It must be hard being a single father.”

“He is doing fine,” I throw in and start munching on my water melon.

For a while they talk about parenting. Then, supported by Uncle Alex, they move on to military vehicles.

“You can swallow the seeds,” Daddy advises me in between.

“But I would like to keep them,” I state. “We could grow some melons on our patio back home.”

“My son also loves biological experiments. There is this carnivorous plant he has from Felucia.”

I make a mental note not to like Zevulon or whatever his name is.

“My wife and Zev will arrive tomorrow afternoon,” Maximilian Veers adds for consideration.

I can tell from his crinkled brows that Daddy seriously considers meeting those people. “But we want to buy my dungarees and my wellies,” I say hastily. “So we will be too busy for anything else. Right, Daddy?”

Uncle Alex chuckles. “Are you not keen on playing with a boy?”

My face gives it away all too easy, but I can't help it.

“Consider yourself on a mission now, _rainbow_!” Daddy remarks, trying to hide his smile. “There are brave officers of both genders around in our army. There is no reason in this galaxy why you should not befriend a boy.”

Uncle Alex chuckles. “Are you not keen on playing with a boy?”  
  
My face gives it away all too easy, but I can't help it.  
  
“Consider yourself on a mission now, _rainbow_!” Daddy remarks, trying to hide his smile. “There are brave officers of both genders around in our army. There is no reason in this galaxy why you should not befriend a boy.”

 

 

_ **Explanation of military terms:** _

__FUBU_ _ _= F***/fouled Up Beyond all Understanding_

__TARFU_ _ _= Totally And Royally F*** Up or Things Are Really F*** Up_

__Roger that, sir!_ _ _= I agree, sir!_

__flyboy_ _ _= He who commands an aircraft. Any male capable of airmanship and/or aviation._

__in civvies_ _ _**=** _ _1\. civilian clothes as distinguished from a particular uniform (as of the military), 2. civilian._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> The fan fic story “The White Stuff” by the JC user Findswoman for the term Lactokokkus gulbaricus and the organization called Imperial Bureau of Foodstuffs and Consumables (IBFC)  
> The on-line article “Orson Krennic: The Machiavellian of 'Rouge One'” by James Akinaka for Fandom.wikia.com (December 2016)  
> Ben Mendelsohn quotes taken from the actor himself in “Ben Mendelsohn: Making most of second chances – The Feed”, a YouTube interview by Marc Fennell (22.06.2017)  
> Receipts from “The Star Wars Cook Book: Wookie Cookies” by Robin Davis (1998) & “The Star Wars Cook Book II: Darth Malt” by Frankie Frankeny & Wesly Martin (2000)  
> The most important sentence of the BBC comedy series “Are you being served?” (1972 and 1985)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	11. Chapter 11

While Daddy and everybody else is busy packing up after a day at the beach, a small boy stands in front of me and my towel suddenly. He is all but smiles and big eyes. I suppose he is two years my minor.

“My name is Jori, Jori Lekauf,” he introduces himself.

“Erm, hi?” I reply baffled.

Nervously, he scans Uncle Alex who folds the sun chairs together. He has not noticed the boy yet.

“Are you Cassandra?” Jori asks.

“I suppose?” I give back carefully.

The boy takes a step closer. “My grandfather Erv told me to give you this.”

A small cylinder is pressed into my lap.

“This is from… you know who.”

Actually, I don't. I keep staring at the device, totally puzzled.

He places a hand on his mouth and makes a strange breathing noise.

Daddy turns around and asks, “What is wrong, little fella?”

“He just wanted to know where I got my cool snorkel,” I lie because I know that my present from Lord Vader, whatever it is, will get confiscated immediately otherwise.

Jori and I exchange a wink.

Then he runs off without further explanation.

Daddy gets distracted by something that Uncle Alex says to him and turns his back on me again.

This gives me time to hide the cylinder that is as large as my palm in my beach bag.

In the distance I can see Jori getting hugged by a man in comfy beach wear. Even in the distance I can see that his face looks funny. As though a bomb has gone off right in it.

********************************************************************

That night I have trouble sleeping. But it is not about Jori or the device that I have hidden between my underwear and my stockings. And it is certainly not about his poor grandfather, who seems to have a connection to Darth Vader. The latter would not trust anybody lightly.

I place my hands on my face, feel how sweaty my palms are.

“Yuck!” I whisper.

Fact is that I have never played with another child before. Zevulon Veers is two years older than me and a boy. What am I supposed to do with him? He likes to kill poor insects. This is not the fun companion that I have hoped for. Why can't he be a nice girl around my age?

“Are you a squall?” Daddy mutters sleepily. “Because you certainly move like one. You have very wiggly hind legs.”

“Must I speak to that Veers boy?” I complain.

“You can stare at him in complete silence.”

“Daddy!” I squeak.

“What?” he yawns widely. “I am just trying to find a solution for your problem.”

“You are horrible.”

“Horribly tired, yes.”

I break out in tears.

“Was a bit much today, wasn't it?” Daddy asks and gathers me into his arms. “Too much sun. The shopping tour. Those freckin' cadets.”

I cannot answer. All I can do is cling to him. Inside my head I yell that I have this present from Lord Vader and that it's eating at me as well.

“And if you do not know Maximilian any better, he can be a bit on the spooky side. But he really is an okay guy, loving his little family very much.”

Daddy keeps comforting me for a while, saying sweet stuff. But I listen more to his heartbeat, enjoy the caress of his hands.

Just a couple of days ago there was just me, Uncle Alex and him. And the occasional official visitors such as medical experts and the social workers. Now there are so many other people in our life. It is scary really.

His chests radiates a lot of heat, but I want him close. I need to feel his skin against mine. He is my fortress. The one who keeps the darkness at bay.

A rumble goes right through him. “Listen! Not all boys are terrible, Cassie dear!” His laughter is soft and low. “This Zev might actually be fun to hang out with. Just give him a chance. For me. Okay? Can you do that?”

********************************************************************

We are not meeting at the lake. The Veers family is asked to come to the farm for afternoon tea. Daddy and Uncle Alex are both busy in the kitchen, wearing silly aprons that seem to have belonged to my grandmother.  
  
I sit in a kitchen chair and watch the two clowns teasing each other non-stop. If they keep making such a mess with the cake's ingredients, they will need to fly to Hanna City for new groceries. Or, more likely, a pre-made cake from a bakery.  
  
“What are you doing there?” I ask after a while.  
  
“The traditional repast of scones, tea and sandwiches, Cassie dear!” Daddy has some wheat flour on the tip of his nose and on the cheeks as well. “It has to be done before supper at Zero Five Hundred Hours.”  
  
I nod to the explanation.  
  
“On Coruscant you would call it High Tea,” Uncle Alex adds. “It is a heavier meal for the working classes, served 'high' at the counter or kitchen table.”  
  
“Yeah, rub your fine Coruscanti pedigree straight into my face, blondie!”  
  
“Why are you full of complexes, Orson?”  
  
“Not only was I born on Lexrul. For what reasons ever my old man moved to Chandrila and I had to grow up here in the West Country.”

“Is that why you are such a whiny nerf?”  
  
They start another fierce kitchen battle.

More dough lumps fly by, accompanied by some raw eggs.

As long as they are going to clean their mess up afterwards it's fine for me. Jay certainly will not do it for them. That altered 2-1B surgical droid is not a slave but a personal assistant of Gramps.

Machines have status, too. That is what I believe in anyway. 

********************************************************************

The moment Daddy has finished wiping the last surface clean our visitors knock at the front door.

“You actually perform very well under high-pressure,” Uncle Alex laughs. “I should tell Tarkin and Amedda.”

“Very funny!” Daddy tries to struggle out of the kitchen apron.

“Here, let me help!”

They can be a pretty good team if they want to.

While Daddy rushes to meet our visitor, Uncle Alex scoops me from my seat and carries me into the living-room. “You look nervous,” he remarks. “Don't!”

“I don't have your sabbac face.”

He gives me the strangest look ever. “Then I will teach you how and much, much more.”

His promise makes me more uncomfortable than the fact that Zevulon and his parents are here.

“It is nice to be so open and heart-warming, but times have changed,” my godfather moves on. “Good girls like you are not safe when they stay their sweet, irresistible selves. The Separatists and the Jedi have destroyed that for good.”

“You mean I have to lie from now on, Uncle Alex?” I am shocked.

“Not lying, Cassie, no. Don't get me wrong there.” He is on the nervous side all of a sudden. “But what I need you to learn is how to protect your own interests. Never give all your heart. It ends up in tears and misery.”

I am not sure if we are talking about befriending a boy or being a citizen of the Galactic Empire.

********************************************************************

Zevulon Veers is not what I had expected him to be. His face is heart-shaped and his smile is honest. But before I can start to like him, he gives me a look that I do not want in the least. It feels worse than the look of that officer cadet from yesterday. There is nothing but pity in his brown eyes.

His mother, Cornelia Veers, gazes at me the same way. There is nothing wrong with her warm smile, but I cannot stand it.

The tea time seems endless and I soon lose my appetite.

Under the pretence that I have a headache, I let Gramps' geriatric droid carry me upstairs to the room that Daddy and I inhabit since our arrival.

“Oh, Jay?” I ask sweetly before he can leave again.

“Yes, Mistress Cassandra?”

I fumble around in the top draw. “Do you know what that is? Daddy dropped it.”

He takes the cylinder between his metal fingers and gazes at it with his yellow eye lenses. “You better be careful with that, Mistress Cassandra.”

I laugh nervously. “Is it a bomb?”

“Master Orson might be a complete idiot at times, but he certainly would not bring any dangerous military objects into this house. Certainly not explosives.”

My grandfather seems to have programmed his personal aid to have a huge amount of dry humour.

“If this is not a bomb, Jay, what is it?”

“A subspace transceiver. It can be used for instantaneous, faster-than-light communications between nearby systems. Wealthy individuals have those. Not only governments.” A pause. “Expect a raise in your pocket money, Mistress Cassandra.”

Now I am on safer ground again. “I can give it back to Daddy,” I suggest.

He hesitates. “Then demand a raise straight away, Mistress Cassandra. For being such an attentive girl.”

In slow motion the blue droid gives the subspace transceiver back to me. Something else seems to be in his electronic mind.

“I would like to thank you for being such a healthy influence for Master Orson. He was a troubled kid. Master Agrippa told me all about it. And he grew up to be a difficult man doing dark things. But you have him under control like a restraining bolt.”

I giggle.

“Without you the kitchen would look like a Clone Wars battlefield.”

The former surgical droid closes the curtains.

“Now find some rest, Mistress Cassandra. Perhaps you can be back for the barbecue in the evening.”

The door is closed discreetly.

********************************************************************

“How could you know that I am basically next door to you?” I ask into the semi-dark of my chamber as if Lord Vader was present in person. “Who told you that I am on Chandrila?”

I remember our last meeting at the Coruscant Intergalactic Art Gallery. The one that Daddy does not know about. Those few, but intense words that we had exchanged in the Tatooine chamber.

“Oh, Daddy!” I can barely swallow the lump in my throat. “How am I ever gonna explain this to you?”

There is something complex going on between my prince and me. Something I cannot put into words. The only thing that I know is that I want to keep it for myself. It is almost a question of honour for me.

I place a hand above my fast pounding heart.

Daddy claims that Uncle Alex should have gotten the 'Star of Courage' for what happened on Lasan. The SC used to be a special bravery decoration here on Chandrila, awarded for acts of conspicuous courage in circumstances of great peril.

Of course my godfather does not like to hear praise. Especially not about the battle he was an essential part of. “A soldier has to do his duty,” he gives back all the time the battle against the Lasat race comes up.

My duties are so much more complicated these days.

With trembling fingers I activate the subspace transceiver. “Hello?” I say, not really certain that I am doing the right thing.

In an instant, his breathing fills the room. “Just a moment.”

There is the sound of his flame sword and I hear some screaming. It sounds too human.

“Am I calling at a bad moment, my prince?”

“Merely. I am just about to finish my daily training. There is nothing to worry about.”

More screaming.

“Your training droids make funny noises though,” I wonder, gnawing on my underlip.

“Then I will shut them down with haste, Cassandra,” he promises.

The background noises only get worse, before they finally stop altogether.

“Finished.”

I can hear that the flame sword gets deactivated.

“Ready when you are,” I suggest.

I can hear his boots marching away from something. Perhaps it's his training room.

“What is the matter?” Lord Vader asks back after several heartbeats.

“I… oh… I don't know.”

He patiently waits on the other side.

“Don't you hate it when people regard you just as a useless cripple?” I say in one rush.

“Nobody ever gave a thought to that. Just you.”

“Hum.” I stare at the patterns of the flowery quilt that I am sitting on. “But am I bothering you with my views?”

“Again. You are the first one to wonder.”

I have to smile. “Does it bother you?”

“We are talking right now.”

He is very cryptical, I grant him that. “I love talking to you.”

No answer, but I imagine him smiling underneath his helmet.

“Did you have a nice day until now?” I add.

“I did what needed to be done in the name of the Empire.”

Perhaps he did not get my question. “What I mean is, did you have fun?”

“It is an honour to serve my master.”

I change the position of my pillows a bit. “If that is your idea of fun.”

“Why are you upset?” he inquires.

I close my eyes.

“Cassandra, tell me!” my prince invites me.

“Daddy arranged a play-date for me. Right here on Chandrila. I never played with a boy before. I mean, I play with Daddy and Uncle Alex all the time, but that is different.”

Even though his voice is filtered beyond recognition, I can sense the curiosity behind it. “That boy, what's his name? Not Jori Lekauf, I hope.”

I feel compelled to say, “Certainly not. Daddy and Uncle Alex are clueless. I did not mean to bring that little guy into trouble.”

“How thoughtful of you. His grandfather is one of my few allies.”

There is silence for some heartbeats and I make up my mind to ask about the incident with the man's face. In the line of duty, this I know from my godfather, very bad things can happen. “Zevulon. Zevulon Veers,” I say instead. “He is my play-date.”

The answer comes immediately. “I know his father. An able man and a great asset to the Empire. Our Empire.”

He makes it sound as if I am part of a greater good.

“Cassandra, did that boy hurt you in any way?”

I think about the cadet officer who ranted in the shop. “Like you I cannot stand pity.”

His breath goes like cold wind.

“Are you still there?” I ask after a while.

“Do you have the impression that I went off-line?” There is faint humour in his words.

“But you did not say anything.”

“Must I say the obvious, Cassandra? You are more than a pair of weak legs and nightmares. Go out there and fight your battles!” A shift in his mood knocks the air out of me. “Do not make me fight for you! It will make you stronger.”

Tears swim in my eyes, because deep down I know he is right. “Can we talk again?”

“Not for a while.”

I reach out for the pillow and hug it. Now I made him angry, because I am so pathetic and unworthy of him.

“There are some pressing tasks. Once I fulfilled them to my master's satisfaction, I will be the one contacting you. And I will know when.”

Happiness floods me. “Take good care of yourself!”

“Nobody else will,” he answers laconically.

_“Over and out?”_ I suggest.

There is a sound that comes close to silent laughter. “Show that Veers boy who you truly are! That will be all it takes to win him over.”

Before I have the chance to say something endearing Lord Vader has left our conversation. At least I do not feel bereft.

There is a knock on the door.

********************************************************************

My smile drops when I recognize my visitor as no other than Zevulon Veers. “Oh it's you!”

He seems genuinely hurt. “I can leave again.”

I push up in my pillows. “No, see I was expecting Daddy,” I say quickly. “But I am cool with you.”

“Are you?” He gives me a lop-sided smile. “How can I be sure?”

I pat on my mattress, keeping the order of my prince in mind. “Come here!”

Torn between triumph and uncertainty Zevulon makes his way towards the bed. He sits down at the very edge.

“Stop doing that!” I chide him.

“What?” he barks back. “You just told me to sit and now I am to get up again?”

“No.” The Veers boy is vexing me. Definitely! “Please stop treating me like an orchid!”

“Orchids are way prettier than you!” His cheeks are heated.

“Thanks for the flowers!” I bite back.

“Argh!” He stares ahead of him. “I told my mom that girls are difficult and she did not want to believe me.”

“And I told my dad that I do not like to play with boys. He did not listen either.”

Exhausted, we look at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	12. Chapter 12

After a while, Zevulon dips his head. “Listen, my mom was not happy with my reaction. So she told me a bit about you.”

“And that was the mistake,” I argue, less annoyed than before. “Because what my mom did do to me or possible didn't does not matter any more. It is the past. Let the past die, okay?”

His mouth twitches, whether in a smile or in a sneer I cannot tell. “Glad we talked about that.”

I stick my tongue out to him, because I cannot think of anything clever to say.

“Will you be like that for the rest of the day?” he demands to know, giving me an incredulous look.

“It depends on you, really.”

He gives me a wolfish grin, revealing small, sharp teeth. His eyes look tawny in the twilight. “How bad is your condition then? Will you melt when sunlight hits you?”

“Open the curtains and you will see.”

He jumps up and hurries to the window opposite the bed. But then he pauses. “Are you sure that I will not hurt you by doing this?”

Perhaps Zevulon is not such a bad guy after all.

“Hour after hour in the sun light without SPF 50 are not a good idea,” I smile. “This is why Daddy gave me a thorough rubbing in session at the beach yesterday.”

The Veers boy nods to himself. “And what about your legs?”

“I can walk small distances,” I announce proudly.

“Show me!” he prompts.

As dignified as I can, I make it to the door.

“Not bad!” He looks genuinely amazed. “But there is room for improvement, rainbow.”

That particular army term coming from his lips sounds endearing and causes a warm glow deep down in my belly.

We look at each other and laugh. Which feels good. Actually, he may not be such a dreadful person after all.

But I need to make sure. “Do you really feed insects to a plant?”

“Erm, yeah?

My heart is about to burst into a thousand little splinters.

He looks smug. “Some plants cannot survive without a decent diet of nutrients. They need more than just water.”

That does sound very practical and thoughtful of him.

“See, I also have all sorts of plants at home. Glower algae. Dromund Kaas lichen. Naboo swamp moss. Magenta onions. They all have their special needs.”

**********************************************************************

With all the patience in the universe Zevulon helps me to walk downstairs, continuously talking about his plant collection back on Coruscant. He is not exactly into the plants that I prefer, the pretty and flowery ones, but that is okay. For he cares for the things that he grows and nurses.

Now and again we pause on the stairs. My muscles, especially those in my legs, already hurt badly, but I do not want to give him the impression that I am a useless playmate.

“Look who is there!” announces Maximilian Veers and toasts towards us with his mug. “Well, children we were about to go into the garden.”

I feel like collapsing on the living-room floor.

“I'll cover that,” Daddy says and gets up.

“Don't you think that you spoil her, Orson? She made it until here. I bet she can walk outside.”

Before his mood can shift, I pipe up. “Zev and I will manage, Daddy. Won't we, Zev?”

My new friend nods. “She is a tough little _rainbow_ , sir.”

There it is again, that word that sounds so different from his lips.

Daddy sits down again. “Then go ahead. We will follow in a bit.” He blushes. “Just don't forget to wear your sun hat, Cassie. And put on some sun lotion. Just in case, ya' know.”

Cornelia Veers is all smiley all of a sudden, but does not say a word.

Like a true gentleman Zevulon offers me his arm. Only I hear him say. “You are lucky to have such a nice dad. Mine is more stiff and military.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” I whisper back.

He is all ears. “But he seems so caring.”

We are out of hearing range.

“You should have seen him in that shop,” I confide to my friend. “After that officer cadet mistook us for local farmers, he summoned his Death Troopers with a little click on his comlink.”

He smirks. “Your dad has real Death Trooper under his command?”

“Comes with his office job for the Advanced Weapon Research unit, I suppose.” I shrug. “He is mainly an engineer and architect there.”

“At least your dad is building things for our Empire.” Zevulon looks sad. “All that mine ever does is destroying everything in his path.”

“That bad?” I inquire.

“You have no idea, _rainbow_.”

********************************************************************

While Daddy dusts off the barbie and thongs, Cornelia Veers and Jay help placing the table mats, the dishes, the glasses and the cutlery. Uncle Alex gives them a hand. Just Maximilian Veers stands around as if watching an attack on its way.

“Why the ice?” the special forces man asks curiously and stares at the metal bucket that his son was asked to bring from the kitchen.

“You can never have too much ice,” explains Daddy, already wearing a BBQ apron. It has a large R2-series astromech droid on it. “You want to keep the meat and especially seafood cool while it’s waiting to go on the grill. Besides barbecuing is thirsty work.”

“I see.”

Zevulon reappears with a 6 pack of Corellian ale.

“Don't forget the rosé for your mom!” Daddy advises him.

“Sure thing, sir!” My friend salutes at him, then winks quickly at me and bounds off again.

Condemned to do nothing apart from enjoying myself, I sit in the garden swing right next to Gramps. After a while I take his hand and put it into my lap. He gives me a grateful smile.

“I like steak the best,” I tell the old man. “First I had trouble chewing it, but I got better with that.”

He keeps smiling.

“Daddy wanted me to enjoy the real taste of life instead of baby food until the end of days.”

“Mind you, I have raised a little rancor lady!” Daddy calls towards us, his hearing range as astonishing as ever.

I make a face. “I still don't like most vegetables, but he wants my diet to be balanced. He is very strict about it.”

“Because you cannot live on raw meat only, Cassie,” Daddy shoots back. “Omnivores have a larger life expectancy than carnivores. You can ask any random rancor about that who runs out of prey.”

********************************************************************

While Maximilian Veers is sent on a mission to secure some tomatoes and lettuce from the kitchen garden, without trampling down everything, his wife approaches Daddy. She looks a bit too purposeful while she comes to stand still next to the barbie. I still don't know what to make of her.

There are not many females in my life. The ones that I have contact with are either in health care or employed by the Child Protective Services. Even though all of them are nothing but kind towards me, I am their client, not just a kid.

I try not to stare at Zevulon's mother in a too obvious way. She is a slim blond and way smaller in height than her husband. For the occasion she is dressed in a light blue tunic and white shorts. She wears flats, nothing too stylish. Apart from her wedding ring there is no jewellery. I can also not spot make-up, which means she has none or she adjusted it very discretely. Her dress code doesn't give away that she is a military wife or a Coruscanti from the upper levels. She looks more like a local that has come over for the occasion.

For a while she remains shoulder to shoulder with Daddy, pretending that she is looking at the grillage and the sizzling sausages. Then she says, “I've come to understand that you were born on Lexrul, director.”

“That's right, mam.” He keeps his gaze intently on the sausages, the barbie tongs firm in his left hand. “But I was raised here on Chandrila.”

She smiles, even though he keeps concentrating on his task as tonight's pit-master. “It must have been a wonderful childhood around here.”

Daddy opens his mouth to speak his mind about that, but I pretend to sneeze. His eyes scan me. Then he answers diplomatically, “I suppose.” There is a shrug. “As a child you tend to see the universe differently.”

“So much greenery and sunlight.” There is sadness on her face. “Denon is very much like Coruscant.”

“So I've heard,” Daddy cuts in, only looking at her now. “Another ecumenopolis, densely populated.”

“If your duties would not bind you to Coruscant's surface all the time, Cassandra could flourish very much here. I am sure of it.”

“That may be so, but I want her to grow-up as a clever city girl and not some clueless hayseed. She should have some style and class.”

Gramps snorts softly.

“But she already has that style and class, director.” Cornelia Veers looks towards me, her gaze ever so warm. “You can be very proud of your achievements in her upbringing.”

Daddy laughs. “Children tend to grow-up all by themselves. Whether we want it or not. Before I know she is out of the house and married with children. If we are lucky if we have a say in which star ship they buy and with whose money.”

********************************************************************

Much, much later, when the dirty dishes are cleaned off by Jay and the soft light of solar lanterns lightens up the table, Daddy gets one of his instruments out of our room. Uncle Alex and I saw that coming, and perhaps Gramps, too, but everybody else is surprised.

“I did not know that you were artistically inclined,” wonders Cornelia Veers.

“Normally, I keep it at a very private level.”

Daddy winks at me and keeps ignoring at his best friend, who grins at him non-stop.

The Veers family have no clue what a treat they are going to get.

When Daddy starts to move his slender fingers over the strings of the ukulele, I recognize the melody in an instant. It is one of my favourite lullabies.

“Rainbows are a common sight in these parts of the planet. A long time ago one of the local farmers made a song about one. It has become sort of an anthem. For the Westcountry anyway.”

I can't help but cheer.

“If this isn't one of my favourite groupies out there in the crowd.” Daddy chuckles. “You've earned yourself a VIP backstage pass, girl.”

When Daddy was in the bathroom this morning, my godfather had told me one of the reasons why the Krennic men have such a complicated relationship.

I have to grin inwardly.

It appears that a certain Krennic junior had left the Republic Futures Program to follow a musical career instead. The already troublesome youth mixed with a bad crowd that grew with each new success. My mother had been one of them, at least for a while.

I give my Gramps a side look, hoping he can finally realize that his one and only son took the second chance that he was given. Not only did he return to the Futures Program, but he also enlisted with the military. It had saved him in so many ways. And then, one fine day, when the opportunity had arisen, he had filed for my adoption.

“I am so proud of you, Daddy!” I whisper.

He keeps the audience dazzled with his skill as a musician before he shows them what he really is capable of.

_“Ooh, ooh, ooh_  
_Ooh, ooh_

_Somewhere over the rainbow_  
_Way up high_  
_And the dreams that you dream of_  
_Once in a lullaby_

_Somewhere over the rainbow_  
_Bluebirds fly_  
_And the dreams that you dream of_  
_Dreams really do come true_

_Someday, I wish upon a star_  
_Wake up where the clouds are far behind me_  
_Where trouble melts like lemon drops_  
_High above the chimney top_  
_That's where you'll find me_

_Somewhere over the rainbow_  
_Bluebirds fly_  
_And the dreams that you dare to_  
_Oh why, oh why can't I?_

_Well, I see trees of green and red roses too_  
_I'll watch them bloom for me and you_  
_And I think to myself_  
_What a wonderful world_

_Well, I see skies of blue and I see clou_ ds of white  
_And the brightness of day_  
_I like the dark_  
_And I think to myself what a wonderful world_

_The colours of the rainbow so pretty in the sky_  
_And also on the faces of people passing by_  
_I see friends shaking hands saying_  
_How do you do?_  
_They're really saying I, I love you_

_I hear babies cry and I watch them grow_  
_They'll learn much more then we'll know_  
_And I think to myself what a wonderful world_  
_World_

_Someday I wish upon a star_  
_Wake up where the clouds are far behind me_  
_Where trouble melts like lemon drops_  
_High above the chimney top_  
_That's where you'll find me_

_Oh, somewhere over the rainbow_  
_Way up high_  
_And the dreams that you dare to_  
_Why oh, why can't I?_  
_Ooh, ooh_  
_Ooh, ooh”_

There are of course tears in Cornelia Veers eyes. In her husband's face I can read new-won appreciation for Daddy. As for Zevulon, he sits on his chair with his right knee pressed against his chest, gaping in awe.

I feel nothing but pride for Daddy. To me he will always be a magician in many ways. Instruments, architecture, crossword puzzles, art cuisine, languages – there is nothing he is not good at. Well, perhaps his temper, but around me he manages nicely. Nobody can be perfect.

With a smile I take Gramps's hand, who sits just opposite me at the table. “Did you also like it?” I ask, even though I know he cannot answer verbally.

“I found it very pathetic,” an unknown voice says with contempt.

Daddy surges to his feet, almost dropping the precious ukulele. “You!”

********************************************************************

The stranger is a tall human with blond hair, cut in military style. When he comes closer to the table, I notice a pair of hard blue eyes. “My mom had wondered if your father was doing okay,” he remarks, sounding nothing but crisp. “So she sent me over. And what do I spot from the hill? Fairy lights all over this property.”

I start looking around for fairies, but I can spot none. This upsets me. Perhaps he caused them to flee.

“Since there usually is only old Jay hanging around here, it made me suspicious,” the man moves on, his voice still as sharp as a kitchen knife. “And now I find you hosting guests as it seems.”

“Very well, Drav.” Daddy runs a hand through his greying hair, which means he is nervous about that person. “You were always one of my greatest critics. Worse than Tarkin really. So I took the liberty not to invite you over for our little soiree.”

“Little soiree,” the other man repeats. “This is what you call a barbie this size.”

The mood of Daddy shifts. I can hear ice in his voice. “Please thank your dear mother for her concerns and ensure her that we will take good care of my old man while we are guests under his roof. Good evening!”

But the tall intruder remains frozen to the spot. He looks around, marks every face at the table. When it is my turn, he turns so pale that I can see it even under the given light conditions. “Tell me that this is not true!”

Now Uncle Alex rises, his cheekbones working. Otherwise he has his usual sabbac face on. “I do not care whether you are the neighbour's son or not right now, Drav, but when you have any issues with our family then let us discuss them at a more appropriate time.”

“Remind me, Alex, since when are you part of the Krennic family?”

My godfather opens his palms wide. “It's a temporary arrangement.” His smile is on the grim side. “We will see you tomorrow. Then we will visit your mother to thank her for the cake and the flowers. Perhaps we can discuss the well-being of Master Agrippa then. Wouldn't you agree?”

“I don't believe it,” the man mutters while strutting away.

Soon the night has swallowed him.

“Wasn't that your colleague Draven?” wonders Maximilian Veers.

“Yeah, I'm afraid it was.” Uncle Alex shakes his head in dismay. “Orson and him had the typical neighbour boy rivalries. I think he never got over it.”

“Draven is known to be into the hard things: sabotage, theft and assassinations,” muses Zevulon's father.

“Darling,” his wife Cornelia warns. “There are children present. Please tell each other such stories during tomorrow evening.”

“I am sorry, honey pie.” This is the first time that I see Maximilian Veers blush. It makes his face much softer. “This is indeed a story for a sabbac evening with the boys.”

“Can I play sabacc, too, dad?” Zevulon cuts in hopefully.

His father pats him on the head. “Ask me this in ten years time, son.”

My friend looks grumpy. “But sabacc can have between two and eight players.”

“We can play something nice,” I give to consider.

“Yeah and what?” Zevulon barks.

I am too hurt to answer.

“Cassie is very good at strategy games,” promises Daddy. “Space War, Dots And Boxes, 4-wins, City-Planet-Star System – you name it, boy.”

“I know something better.” Uncle Alex stands behind me all of a sudden, holding my shoulders. His grip is calming and gratifying alike. “Something that is so much fun that I feel almost tempted to stay behind with you, kids.”

“Oh yeah?” Zevulon gives his best to sound disinterested.

“I am going to build up my emergency tent right in the middle of the apple orchard.”

“Cassie never slept outside,” Daddy protests straight away.

“Tough cookie that she is, she might even survive that experience.”

“Out of the question, Alex! We are not putting her in a tent in the middle of nowhere.”

“If you feel any better, I can build up the rest of my equipment, too. Photoelectric sensors, smoke traps.”

“Cool!” Zevulon says so eagerly, that my bad mood almost vanishes. Almost. A certain reserve stays and it strains.

“Director Krennic,” says Cornelia Veers.

“Please call me Orson.”

She gives Daddy a shy smile. “I understand that you are concerned about Cassandra's safety, but can't you see the unique chance for her? To spend a night under a natural night sky. No flight traffic, no pollution.”

I put on my most endearing face. “Please, Daddy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> A sentence from the movie “Star Wars, Episode VIII: The Last Jedi” by Rian Johnson (2017)  
> The song “Over the rainbow” by Israel Kamakawiwo'le (1990)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	13. Chapter 13

To see Daddy unravelling inch by inch is rewarding. “Well, then we will play sabacc in the barn instead of the living-room and camp in there, too.” He grants Cornelia a hopeful glance. “Would you mind taking over the guest room for tomorrow night instead of returning to your hotel room in Hanna City?”

“Mom?” begs Zevulon.

“It depends on your dad, really.”

“Well, see it as a practice for the Empire's Sub-Adult Group, son.”

While my friend looks genuinely startled, his mother sighs and reaches out for her husband's chin. “Not now, Max.”

“You keep delaying it. Out of a sudden our boy is nineteen and too old to join.”

“Come here for a sec!” she pleads.

“No kissing and touching in front of everybody.”

“You are not on duty and neither are our hosts,” she says with a grin.

Their faces come closer inch for inch. Then their lips touch and I can see two grown-ups kiss right in front of me for the first time ever.

“Yuck!” complains Zevulon, but his eyes tell me a different story. Actually he is very happy that his parents have such a tender relationship.

Being the daughter of a high-ranking Imperial officer I know that the Empire can be pretty harsh and scary. The event in town today proved that. But underneath the stern surface there is room for love, trust and family.

********************************************************************

Later, I am still busy waving the Veers family good-bye from my bedroom window, I can hear how Daddy hisses from outside our bedroom, “Why did you hide my blaster, Alex?”

“What gives you the impression I would do such a thing?” my godfather jeers.

“It's not where it is supposed to be.”

“Perhaps you misplaced it, Orson.”

“Stop looking smug, Alex! You took it and I freckin' want to know why.”

“Isn't that obvious? This way problems are not solved.”

“Do you fear I'll walk right over to the Anils and shoot Ducky Drav in his freckin' head?”

I frown at the name. That grumpy man from earlier on is called Ducky? No wonder he is upset and hostile all the time. I concentrate on listening again.

“You are always full of unusual solutions,” answers my godfather back in a much more moderate way. “The Geonosians. Malpaz. The Ersos.”

“Really, Alex? You throw all of this in my face? Even after the jig that Drav danced in front of freckin' everybody.”

“Calm down and get Cassie ready for the night!”

“And what will you do?”

“Putting up motion detectors with Jay's help.”

“Ha, you are nervous, too.”

“Simply cautious, Orson. For that family always comes in great numbers.”

“You mean he will bring his siblings into this?”

“Madine might show up. Teller is missing since the Carrion Pike got stolen. Chasdy is still in prison. Oh yeah and the little red-head might sneak around any time soon.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Maddy, Mandy. No, May. Or was it Mary?”

“Ah, the weird one with the jade eyes.”

“If that is the girl who can make objects disappear and knows too much all the time.”

“Right, this is Mara.”

They move away from the bed room and I am not able to hear them any more, but what I have overheard makes it perfectly clear to me.

The Anil clan is a bunch of criminals and lunatics. The mother seems to be the only exception. I wonder if there is a father.

“How many kids do those people have?” I let out, somewhat exhausted.

In my mind, I see them sneaking around the house with laser blasters in their hands. Keen to murder Daddy.

Uncle Alex claims that there is so much evil in this galaxy. I never thought it would be able to find us on Chandrila.

This is such a peaceful world, full of water and endless meadows.

Evil is supposed to come from dull and hostile places such as Eriadu or Tatooine. Why Tatooine is not clear to me yet. Recently, Daddy muttered something about Hutt territory. And when I checked that name up in my educational data banks, it showed huge toad. Mind you, a cute toad!

********************************************************************

I wait until Daddy has dressed me for the night and scoops me into our bed. “Why was that man so angry, Daddy?” I inquire.

“You have paid attention to Uncle Alex' explanations, Cassie dear, haven't you?” There is a faint glow of panic in his eyes. “Dravits Draven...”

“That is a silly name,” I burst out with laughter.

“But it is his name.” Daddy gives me a wry smile. “See, he even kept it after getting adopted.”

“Adopted like all the others?”

He blinks. “Which others?”

Just to be on the safe side, I name them all. “Madine, Teller, Chasdy, Mara.”

“But you were over there.” He has paled considerably. “Right there by the window.”

“Then you need to whisper much, much softer in future,” I suggest.

Daddy looks so helpless and beaten that I just want to put my arms around him and hold him tight the entire night.

“Did all these people beat you up when you were a child?” I ask. “And Mistress Anil never did anything to stop her kids? What kind of woman is she?”

His left hand is cramped around a bed post. “Actually very kind.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods. “She was kind to me. Most of the time any way.”

“But her kids were not.”

“There were nasty ones among them.”

“I can sleep with both eyes open, if that helps, Daddy?”

My suggestion makes his mouth tremble.

“Are you not well, Daddy?”

He breaks down right in front of me, sobbing and shivering.

“Oh, Daddy!”

It costs me all my strength to crawl towards him, but I manage. Once he is in my reach, I press my face against his belly.

His fit intensifies.

“I am here with you, Daddy. Nobody can harm you. Not on my watch!”

The door bursts open.

“What the freck!” admonishes Uncle Alex. “Get a grip, man!”

“I can't!” sniffs Daddy. “They are coming for me. All of them. To get me for what I did.”

“Nonsense. Nobody is coming for you, nerfherder!”

Flustered, my godfather joins our hug.

“Besides, Orson, you did nothing wrong,” he adds. “What you did was the only reasonable thing. I am with you.”

I have no clue what they are talking about, but it makes me happy that they have more in common than usual.

There are noises outside and we all turn to the door.

Somebody knocks. It sounds metallic.

“Yes?” Daddy hicks.

Jay enters. “Is anything the matter, Master Orson?”

********************************************************************

We had emergency meetings in our kitchen at home before. But this is the first one in Gramp's place.

Reluctantly, Daddy holds a mug with chocolate in his hand. But that doesn't distress him. “No, for the third time. I don't want Corellian whiskey in it.”

“Master Orson, trust me!” The geriatric droid tuts, which sounds funny due to his computer animated voice. “I have been a loyal servant in this household since four years. Therefore I know best what works for a Krennic man and what does not.”

With a gloomy face, Daddy stares at his mug. “I never asked. Who did your programming?”

“Master Crix and Master Draven.”

A gurgling sound comes from Daddy's throat.

I frown, especially at the mentioning of the latter. How can Dravits Draven be keen on hurting Daddy when he is helpful towards Gramps? “Perhaps this is all a big misunderstanding.”

Everybody looks at me.

“Perhaps Master Draven is just grumpy with Daddy because he thinks that grandfather and Daddy never made peace with one another!” I voice.

“Cassie!” begs Daddy, the skin around his eyes still puffed and red from crying.

“No, Orson. Your daughter is making much more sense than you,” Uncle Alex throws in. “Please go on, sweetie!”

I am proud that my godfather is willing to hear me out. “Well, they already have history with one another. Right?”

“Roger that. Permission to go ahead, strategic genius.”

Sometimes Uncle Alex says hilarious stuff, but his sideburns are cute. That makes up for it. “And if Master Draven believes that Daddy is still a naughty boy then he might have the reason to show up here unannounced and check things out, you know. Like he did tonight.”

“And your solution is?”

“Peace talks.”

Uncle Alex flashes me a smile as bright as a thousand suns. “We will walk over to the Anils first thing in the morning.”

Hope pulses through me like a beam of light. “Can I come, to?”

In my head I already see myself giving a big bouquet of pretty flowers to Mistress Anil, because she has such a difficult bunch of children to deal with.

“No,” my godfather speaks softly. “I need you to watch out for possible intruders. Not that this Teller guy shows up and steals the ST 149.”

“Cut it, Alex!” complains Daddy. “My daughter has a lively imagination already.”

He pretends to pout, but only for a few heartbeats. Then he leans over t me. “Well, very trustful ISB sources told me that Teller stole a stealth ship from a Moff. A huge corvette. If you ask me, he isn't dead. He is still around and looks for the next great deal that he can make on the black market.”

Daddy face-palms.

“Excuse me, Orson, but Cassie is the best option that we have.”

“Pardon me?”

“It's simple really. You will give her your blaster and let her shoot on everybody who tries to enter your ship in our absence.”

********************************************************************

I am awakened at dawn by a fully dressed Uncle Alex. He is in his ISB combat armour with the ugly helmet on. “Your training starts at 5:30 am sharp, rainbow.”

“Argh!” Daddy shouts into his pillow.

“You can stay in bed, lazy arse. I just want your precious daughter at the training range. You and your silly white cape would be just in the way.”

“Mad,” mumbles Daddy. “You must have gone mad.”

“Oh yeah? You are the one who keeps talking about showing her how to deal with a laser. But you just keep talking about it. If I would not know any better this is exactly why your project fails.”

Daddy sits straight up in bed, his face crinkled and his eyes blood-shot. “I freckin' hate you.”

Uncle Alex has the nerve to blow him a kiss. “I fear you love me so much that you cannot live without me any longer.”

“You assume too much, Agent Kallus!”

Laughing, my godfather tears away the blanket. “Come, sweetie! Let us leave this morning grouch on his own. The early bird catches the worm.”

I crinkle my nose. “We will have worms for breakfast?”

He ruffles my hair while Daddy sinks into the pillows again. “I just noticed that the apple never falls far from the tree.”

“Get lost, drill sergeant!” barks Daddy. “And do not wake me before 8:00 am sharp.”

Uncle Alex lifts me into his arms and rubs his nose playfully against mine. “At least you have inherited my irresistible charme.”

********************************************************************

Things stop being playful when my godfather puts down five tins. He places them on a small mound. We are at the far end of the Krennic property. No apple trees grow here. It is just a patch of grassland.

“Won't it hurt the clods when my laser beam hits them?” I ask full of concern.

“Who cares about clods?” chuckles Uncle Alex, looking gleeful and boyish.

“Earthworms might get hurt.”

He laughs until tears flow.

I keep looking at him. It sobers him after a while.

“Push your religious thoughts aside! Just concentrate on the task ahead!” he advices me, his face a smooth surface again. “After we are finished here, you can go on feeling karmic joy of living in the light of the dharma.”

Actually, I have no clue what he is talking about. Not really. But a small voice inside my head knows that 'dharma' means 'truth' and also stands for Mother Nature herself.

“Cassandra, dearest,” my godfather says in a clipped army voice. “We are not here to found an organization for insect welfare. You are to learn how to wield a blaster.”

I push aside all my inner knowledge about the teachings of the Naboo. There will be no act of killing, just the handling of a tool. I will learn about self-defence. Nothing more, nothing less.

Calmness floods me, making way for clarity.

Observing the breath, observing the mind.

********************************************************************

There are no favours. No softness at all. This is military training. Uncle Alex is not a fluffy plush to cuddle with. Not while we are out here. With lethal weapons in our hands.

I remember what he had said only yesterday about learning to pretend. As an ISB agent it seems to be his second skin.

Perhaps it will come in handy for me to be a pretender, too.

Basically, the Force would grant me to be a sharp shooter. One of the best really. But I choose not to be. I'd rather be mediocre. If I am ever in the situation to fire at somebody, then I would prefer just to hurt that person. I do not wish to be an executioner.

After a while, I start to hit the cans, but never at their very centre.

My godfather tries to hide his pride from me, but it seeps down my consciousness.

Soon, he reduces the amount of cans, makes the distance for me bigger.

I am sweaty and my legs hurt, but I am too proud to give in. Too eager to call it a day.

********************************************************************

“How is it going?” Daddy asks, when he appears at lunch time with a picnic basket. He is in his civvies and unshaven as far as I can tell. A blanket is tucked up under his left arm and a huge parasol under the other one.

“She is doing okay,” Uncle Alex muses, knitting his strawberry coloured brows. “Far better than any learner I ever had under my wings.”

He still does not seem to realize that I am holding back. This is good news. I wonder though if my dark prince or Mitth'raw'nuruodo can ever be fooled so easily. But then again, my godfather would never suspect me to betray him in any way.

During lunch Uncle Alex switches back into his private modus, leaving the cool and demanding instructor behind. He spoils me with smiles and jokes again. There is also a lot of praise.

Deep inside me, I still feel guilty. I should have enjoyed our outdoor activities more. Should have been grateful to have been tuned into a far more valuable citizen of the Empire. To have gotten an upgrade.

As far as I understand, the Jedi had been the guardians of our galaxy for many generations. They carried flame swords like Lord Vader, fought for those who were not able to defend themselves. But then something corrupted them. In absolute secrecy they created a clone army on the waterworld of Kamino. Then they started influencing a lot of people: businessmen, politicians, scientists and law enforcements. It did not stop there. They orchestrated a war like no other and at its peak they tried to murder Sheev Palpatine.

This is common knowledge. Yet it is hard for me to believe that an entire religious order had been able to decay from within. There must have been upright individuals. Not keen on murder and deceit.

With a smile painted on my face, I eat the food offered to me. Daddy has put a lot of effort into it. There are cucumber sandwiches with lemon herb butter, cherry tomato tartlets, Vanilla butterfly cupcakes plus classic scones with jam and whipped cream.

It is not that I hate the Empire. I am already part of it, but I wish my little family could have more days like this. Out in the wide open under a blue sky, surrounded by whispering grass and pretty flowers.

No military marches with boots that trample down everything in their path.

From my point of view there should be more and longer holidays for soldiers and their families.

There are three festival weeks on Coruscant, and of course, Empire Day. Despite the fact that this particular holiday falls on a single date of the year, celebrations of the event can last for several days or even weeks in certain regions of the galaxy, depending on the local culture.

On Naboo, for example, the capital plays host to various parades and for days on end.

“How do people celebrate our beloved Emperor here on Chandrila?”

Daddy almost suffocates from the bite that he just took out of his juicy sandwich. Fraternally, Uncle Alex comes to the rescue and slaps him on the back. A little bit too enthusiastic.

“Ouch!”

“You have turned into a quite softie since we are here, Orson.”

“Ha, ha!” Daddy swipes his mouth clean with the back of his left hand. “Well, my daughter asked a jolly good question. Care to answer it, Alex?”

Cluelessness shows in my godfather's face. “I'd rather have another one of those vanilla kisses.”

I start to ask myself if our Empire is not popular on this planet.

Strange whistling fills the air.

“What is this supposed to be, Orson?” wonders my godfather.

“The Imperial March.”

“You mean that ill sounding jingle,” Uncle Alex laughs back.

Daddy gets up and makes a wide gesture with his hands. _“Enlist now! The Galactic Empire.”_

“I know a better one,” announces my godfather and also rises from the picnic blanket, trying not to knock over the parasol. _“Take to the skies! Enlist today!”_

“Nay, you would not want to tout for the Navy, Alex! C'mon man!”

“Ups, my mistake. Okay, what about this one? _Security in strength, order in obedience!_ ”

“Nice one! What ya think of: _We fight, we win. Join the Imperial Forces!_ ”

“A true beauty.”

They continue for a while, trying to outdo one another.

I watch them from the blanket, helping myself to a scone with whipped cream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	14. Chapter 14

Dusk brings our visitors to our doorstep. Deactivating all minor house droids, Daddy and Uncle Alex have cleaned the farmhouse themselves.

“Every cadet learns how to keep his army locker clean and his weapon in good order,” Daddy says to me and winks. He is definitely in a good mood.

The room that we had until now will be hosting Cornelia Veers for a couple of days. She got fresh bedlinen. I added a big bouquet of field flowers and put it in a vase. Jay took care to carry it upstairs for me.

While Daddy saunters off to greet our guests, the tall robot comes to stand in front of me. “Well done, Mistress Cassandra! You should get a Hanna pendant from me. For freeing all droids from their chores today.”

I have no clue what a Hanna pendant is, but it sounds nice. Beaming up to the humanoid droid I say, “Will you shut off yourself?”

“Me, Mistress Cassandra?” He points at himself as if in shock. “Master Agrippa cannot go without me a single minute.”

I frown. “Are you never in sleep modus?”

“I take my duty to him very seriously. He is too old and fragile to be left on his own.”

“Not even for an oil bath?”

“Ah!” There is something dreamy in the electronic voice. “I simply cannot, Mistress Cassandra.”

I reach out for his left hand, which is the closest to me, and squeeze it lightly. “Tell me a date and a time, I will babysit grandpa for you.”

His massive metal head bends down. “If I were a human being, I would hug you right now.”

I start laughing.

“What is so funny?” asks Zevulon and zooms towards me.

“Jay just has proven that he is the most wonderful member of this household,” I reply.

The droid walks away in silence but cares to look back at us several times until he vanishes in the kitchen.

My friend covers his mouth in conspirator modus. “I find robots spooky in general.”

That surprises me. “Why?”

“You never know what goes around in their circuits.”

I come to Jay's defence. “That can be said for most humans and humanoids, too.”

“Good point taken,” he agrees, smiley all over his heart-shaped face. “But a living being cannot be brainwashed that easily.”

“Says who?” I argue. “When Uncle Alex is really up to it, he can re-write any person, too. Make them do things they never would have otherwise.”

Suddenly, I have to think about my dark prince. About all the things that he is able to do.

I fall quiet.

********************************************************************

After dinner my cheerful mood is restored, because Zevulon knows a lot of silly jokes. It is hard to keep up a straight face to them.

_“How do you get down from a bantha?”_

I shrug, having no clue whatsoever.

_“You don't. You get down from a goose.”_

I crinkle my nose.

“What about this one, _rainbow_?” He winks at me. _“A clone trooper walks into a pub and asks the barman,'Hey, have you seen my brother?'”_

I hold my breath.

His grin gets wider. “Well?”

“Just tell,” I beg.

_“I dunno,' says the barman, 'What does he look like?'”_

Daddy snorts, while Uncle Alex rolls his eyes.

Zevulon has the next corny joke already on the way. _“A Hutt slithers into the food court. The cashier says, 'Hey! We have a pizza place named after you!'”_

I can feel that this one is going to be a masterpiece.

_“The Hutt says, 'You have a pizza place named Jabba Desilijic Tiure?'”_

Maximilian Veers holds up a hand. “Enough! You can tell Cassandra jokes the entire night. In that tent of yours. Some people try to eat here.”

“One last, dad!” he begs.

“Okay, one.”

_“Two Jawas walk under a bar.”_

********************************************************************

Zevulon frowns at the user manual. “How is any soldier supposed to understand this big heap of bantha poodoo?” he mutters. “I mean this makes no bleeping sense.”

I look at the tent poles and the large canvas, which are entangled into something that might be a construction straight from the Coruscant Intergalactic Art Gallery. “Abstract art,” I beam, being sure Mitth'raw'nuruodo would approve of it.

“The Sand People would laugh at us,” complains my friend, not really listening. He looks exhausted. “They erect tents that can withhold any sand storm.”

Unfortunately, we have no Tusken at hand. But we know one of the best architects and engineers of the Empire. Again, unfortunately, Daddy is busy entertaining our other two guests. Something tells me we should not disturb them. They seem to discuss some serious matters. Judging by their faces it is not light chitchat.

“Let's try again, Zev,” I suggest with an encouraging smile. “I mean how much worse can it get?”

His heart-shaped face darkens. “We might screw this one up mightily.”

“Are you sure we need a screwdriver?” I frown. “Let me check!”

I reach out for the manual, but he is not willing to depart from it.

“Oh, _rainbow_.” My friend ruffles my hair. “You are really something.”

“What?”

He just laughs and laughs.

“Honestly, I don't get it,” I say as dignified as I can.

Zevulon giggles on. “Me neither. But does it matter? Just wading through this bantha poodoo with you is fun.”

The manual flies through the air.

“Hey!” I protest, while I see it land in the soft Chandrilan grass.

“As long as we are in it together, all is fine,” my friend assures me. “But let us have a break now.”

“Finish your task, soldiers!” his father calls out to us, holding on to a glass of Corellian cider. “No tent, no food!”

My friend makes a face. “Gah!”

Perhaps now is the right time to ask a question that has been on my mind for a while. “Does your dad really want you to enlist with COMPNOR?”

“I fear so. With one of their sub-adult groups.” Zevulon starts kicking against the apple tree closest to him. “He is obsessed by it.”

“But are you not happy to serve our Empire?” I give to consider.

“There are better things to do than to play war games. For example having the summer of my life. Preferably with you, rainbow. And not with some cadets crawling through the mud, being shouted at by a drill instructor.”

I remember this morning's training with Uncle Alex. “Good point,” I mumble, blushing slightly.

“Before I met you I thought all girls would be boring. But you are quite something.”

Now I blush even more.

********************************************************************

In the end my godfather saunters over to us and helps us to erect the tent. The three of us put it right in the middle of the apple orchard.

“Hum, not bad,” Uncle Alex muses, while he lies inside and wiggles his large feet. “Perhaps I'll skip sabacc altogether and hang out with you guys instead.”

“Won't Daddy be upset?” I wonder.

“Who cares?”

Zevulon is deep scarlet, but he manages to say, “Me, for I and the girl have plans for tonight.”

“Really?” My godfather is up on his feet and out of the tent in no time. “What plans?”

“Erm, the usual.”

He gives my friend a glare that he might have usually in stock for a suspect. “Enlighten me!”

Zevulon stares at his own boots, deep crimson. “Like watching the stars together, telling each other spooky monster stories.”

Uncle Alex' eyes sparkle. “I was a bit worried for a moment, but then again you are not in your teens… yet.”

“Sir!” my friend thunders. “I am so not my Cousin Izzy. And I would never get Cassandra in trouble. I swear.”

“From now on you will be my second most favourite kid in the galaxy.” Uncle Alex pats Zevulon's back and marches off again.

I am confused. “What was this about?”

My friend draws me closer and whispers into my right ear. “Izzy made a girl pregnant. An admiral's daughter. This is what they talk about.”

I make a mental note to ask Daddy where exactly the babies come from. And why he did not make my mother pregnant with me.

********************************************************************

Right after dinner, another generous barbie done by Daddy as our pit master again, there is a real campfire just for us kids. Uncle Alex brings us something that is called marshmallows and we can roast them on long wooden sticks.

Later on, around midnight, we walk up the little hill and look down at the grown-ups.

Zevulon has a huge woollen blanket with him and wraps us in with it. Together we gaze into the sparkling night sky.

Somewhere out there – hopefully on Coruscant – are my dark prince and my Chiss friend. And our beloved Emperor, Sheev Palpatine.

I dare to bring the latter up.

“They say he seldom leaves the palace and it is almost impossible to get an audience with him,” my friend tells me, while my head leans against his shoulder. “The betrayal of the Jedi has changed him a lot. He used to be a kind elderly gentleman.”

“And now?” I ask, almost choking with anxiety.

“I have no clue. But those who know him since years, such as Bail Prestor Organa of Alderaan or Mon Mothma of Chandrila, are not very happy with him any more.”

I keep looking into the starry sky, being worried for our ruler. Old people need to know that they are loved and cherished. Since we are here Gramps is very smiley each time he looks at me and I can see the love in his eyes. Perhaps this is what Sheev Palpatine needs very badly: love.

“There also has been an, um, plot by a high ranking officer a couple of years ago.” Even though Daddy, Uncle Alex and his parents are more than two hundred metres away from us, my friend starts to whisper. “Somebody called Gentis managed to bring up a lot of young cadets against old Palpatine. But you don't have it from me, of course.”

“Of course,” I assure him, knowing how tight-lipped my godfather can be about classified information. “But what happened?”

“They blew up a lot of buildings on Coruscant that evening, mostly military ones.”

“Was anybody hurt?” I throw in.

“Ugh, yeah?”

That makes me sad.

“But the strangest thing is, on the public channels they blamed a guy called Saw Gerrera.”

That name rings a bell. “He killed the mother of Jyn Erso,” I pipe up.

“He is a frecking terrorist, that's what he is,” comments Daddy darkly, clinging on to two mugs.

His sudden appearance startles us both.

“Just checking my front lines,” smiles Daddy.

“But we are not at war with the Anil property, sir!” Zevulon protests.

“That is for me to know and for you to wonder about, Cadet Veers.”

“Daddy,” I pout. “I am having a play date and you are interrupting with war games.”

Daddy goes down in front of me. “Forgive me my insolence!”

“Perhaps!”

His grin is young and boyish, making the hard lines in his face softer. “I did not mean to discuss terrorists or our dreadful neighbours.”

“Then don't!” I state regally and take one of the mugs from him.

Daddy remains sitting on his heels, bathing me in his glance. The love that radiates from him is overwhelming as usual. But underneath I detect the hate he feels for Saw Gerrera. There is also his nagging worry about the Anil bunch, every single one of them.

“We already took position, Daddy.” I try to sound convincing and positive. “Nobody will harm you tonight.”

“I fear for your well-being, little soldier,” he sighs.

“With all due respect, sir, not on my watch,” my friend throws in.

“Hey, Orson, leave them kids alone!” shouts Zevulon's father. “Or we have our sabacc tournament without you.”

“Coming!” he shouts back, but makes no move to get up.

“Daddy!” I stress.

“As you wish.” He hands the remaining mug over to my friend. “I rely on your survival, Cassie dear.”

“Then I will not disappoint you!” I say in a solemn tone of voice.

“You never do!” Daddy winks at me. “You exceed all expectations!”

I will give my best to keep it up.

********************************************************************

It is the best night in the universe, even though Zevulon is a bit grumpy that I am not easy to scare with ghost stories. Nor do I mind space monsters that much. Most of them are just scary on the outside, but have a good heart. No matter what the rest of the galaxy says.

“Normally people are afraid of a veermok,” my friend complains after the seventh attempt to frighten me.

I shrug. “Why should I?”

“Tsk!” Zevulon shakes his head in dismay. “You seem to love them all.”

“See, respect is important when you deal with a wild beast,” I argue.

“Respect,” he echoes.

“Yes, indeed.” Proudly, I lift up my chin. “You should show respect to any creature that crosses your way. The good, the bad, the ugly, we are all bound together by...”

“Don't mention the Force!” Zevulon interrupts me.

“Why not?” I sulk.

“After what the Jedi did to this galaxy, it is better to shut up about the Force altogether,” he warns me. “Especially grown-ups, who were involved in the Clone Wars, take a freak.”

Once more those Clone Wars. It seems to be like a battle of clowns really, because it made everybody rather silly in the aftermath. “The Force still exists,” I state. “Despite all of us and what history thinks of it.”

My friend puts his right arm around my shoulders. “Perhaps. But you should not mention it.”

“Why?” I challenge him.

“It's...,” he pauses. “Well, it's like giving somebody details of a dentist treatment you had to undergo.”

“But the Force does not hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And what about Vader?”

The sheer mentioning of that name fills me with happiness and deep awe. “What about him?”

“He badly hurts people all the time. Daddy did mention that he can kill somebody by only looking at him. And he does not even need to be in the same room to do that. He can be light years away.”

I blink at him like a night bird being caught in a beam of light.

Why would somebody abuse the Force in a way like that?

“Now, I have frightened you,” Zevulon says, but does not sound triumphant. His fingers squeeze my shoulder blades. “Hey, I think you should not be afraid of the Dark Lord. I bet he leaves nice girls like you alone.”

I remain quiet.

“You are not a troublemaker, right?” He kisses my left cheek. “It is usually the troublemakers that Vader is after and that Daddy smashes with his vehicles.”

Until now I had not been aware that people with a different opinion get killed. I thought they would be kindly corrected or nicely reminded of their tasks. But Imperial Law has nothing to do with the set of household rules that Daddy and Uncle Alex have come up with.

“Are you okay, _rainbow_?”

The worry in my friend's voice is palpable.

“Just a bit cold,” I say. “That is all.”

The cold, I feel, does not come from the outside, but from deep within me.

“Let us better ask for a second blanket!” suggests Zevulon.

And I will need a second skin. To be tougher and less vulnerable. I need to be strong for Daddy. If something bad ever happens to me, he would not forgive himself. That Nagina woman already died on him. But I won't. He cannot bear to lose another beloved person.

********************************************************************

I wake up in the middle of the night, because a tall shape towers in front of the tent. Opening up to the Force I soon can tell that its not somebody that I have encountered before. And because I sense no danger, I decide to crawl outside.

Zevulon is a great hindrance, because he basically clings to me. Perhaps he mistakes me for his teddy bear.

“Let go!” I whisper. “I need to pee!”

“Yuck! Girl stuff,” he gurgles and finally releases me.

My friend is already vast asleep again, when I open the tent. His happy snoring tells me as much.

The night air is slightly cool, but still pleasant. The temperatures on Chandrila are fairly moderate.

Careful, I rise.

“Come!” says the stranger who is completely covered in a Mandalorian armour. “Walk with me!”

His gloved fingers close around mine, their pressure neutral.

We slowly make our way downhill and I never let go of the hand.

There is something familiar about this cool and aloof touch. It feels to me as if we have walked this path before.

I am completely bewildered.

For orientation I gaze up into the Chandrilan night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> The website of Reader's digest: funny stuff/ corny Star Wars jokes  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	15. Chapter 15

“Listen, child!” says the stranger after a while and comes to a complete standstill. “You don't know me and I have no wish to get acquainted with you any further. This is as close as this ever gets.”

All I sense is calm resolve.

“What can I do for you, sir?” I inquire.

He lets go of my hand and I feel bereft somehow. “About two metres from here the Anil property starts. You will not cross this line. Ever.”

Even though it is a lethal warning the stranger makes it sound like a simple fact.

“I will know if you disobeyed our deal, child.”

I put my chin up, mortified. “I did not even know we have a deal.”

“It is simple really.” His voice stays flat and emotionless. It is not only the voice modulator of his helmet doing that. His entire attitude towards me is composed. “If you fail to keep away from your grandfather's neighbours, I will kill everybody that you ever cared for and make you watch their slow deaths.”

I stare at the Mandalorian warrior before me. But there is no fear in my heart, I am just upset. “Usually, I do as I am told. Especially when my dad asks something of me.” More disappointment floods me. “But you come here in the middle of the night for very little reasons and make threats?”

“A promise,” he corrects me.

I keep my eyes free of tears. This is not the right moment to cry and would not achieve anything. “It was already overly clear to me that I was not to upset Mistress Anil. You wasted your time and mine tonight.”

“How?”

I put my hand on my hips. “By making up bantha poodoo stories about killing people.” I sneer at him. “Perhaps you would like to gun down my dad, Uncle Alex or Mister Veers. They have many enemies. But you would not dare to harm Zev or his mom. Your own code of honour forbids that.”

“Try me!”

I am not impressed, just upset. “And if you really care for Mistress Anil, and my feelings tell me that you do, then you will certainly not harm the man she visits with flowers at least once a month.”

“Perhaps there is something wrong with your feelings, child,” he suggests to me.

“There is something wrong with you, sir, when you sneak around in the middle of the night and try to frighten little girls. Any Veermok would be more polite.”

“Strange, that you would bring up the heraldic animal of House Palpatine.”

As dignified as I can, I walk away. I have enough of this person.

Of course, I stumble and fall, but I struggle to get up again. Just to hit the ground once more.

The Mandalorian warrior makes no move to help me.

“Freeze!” Uncle Alex bellows and I do. “I'll get this!”

Without turning around I know that he zooms straight towards the stranger, his anger leaving a red track behind on my retina.

********************************************************************

Their voices are low, but they clash together like stones. More sparks of emotion fly through the air, making me dizzy.

All this anger for nothing. Grown-ups really know how to waste their time.

Not much later, I feel the supportive arm of my godfather around my waist again.

“Was this a contract killer send by Mister Draven?” I ask, my voice shivering.

“He would only send himself, believe me,” Uncle Alex bites out. “Drav has too big trust issues.”

“Like Daddy?”

Out of the sudden, my feet have no ground contact any more and I am crushed against my godfather's chest. “Listen, Cassandra, your father must never know that Mister Fett was here tonight! He is paranoid enough already.”

If lying will save Daddy from more anger, stress and heartbreak, I will do whatever Uncle Alex asks of me.

********************************************************************

We remain sitting on the hill for a while, the stars bright above us. Despite tonight's encounter I still believe that their light that is embedded in each of us. For we are all made of star dust. This I have recently learned from a HoloNet program for kids.

Humanoids share about ninety-seven percent of their atoms with this galaxy. Centuries ago, scientists found out that the elements of life – carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, phosphorus and sulphur – appear to be more prevalent toward the galaxy's centre. That so-called Deep Core is an area most densely-packed with stars, nebulae, and other anomalies. It is basically the primordial soup of life, left after the big bang.

How can any of us be a creature of pure evil when we are descendants of stars? With the light of the Force in us.

Besides, Mister Fett had not been a danger for me, just very conflicted. Trying to do the right thing. At least what he believes to be right.

I lean against Uncle Alex as if he is a rock in the waves. His civvies smell of hay and there is a faint odour of Corellian whiskey. Not the cheap stuff, but one of my father's special treats. When Imperial officers meet in private all seems to be about giving each other a nice time. But when they are on duty they are less friendly with one another. Then it is all about a certain pecking order, strict rules and the display of strength.

It makes me sad, really. The Imperial army with all her different branches should be about camaraderie, gallantry and honesty. Like in my story books.

This is why I do not get why the Jedi are supposed to be rotten villains who wanted Sheev Palpatine dead five years ago. They all were knights, following a noble course. One individual might fail and lose its way. But thousands of them?

My mind wanders off, enchanted by the nightly concert that the crickets give us.

On Coruscant there are never any crickets. Not even in the parks. Which is a pity. They make such wonderful, soothing sounds.

“That Mister Fett, is he any good at his job?” I ask at some point.

“If that brute wanted you dead, you properly would be. But he has an issue with children.” My godfather pauses, fishing for words. “Fact is, he thinks he owes Mistress Anil. See, Mister Fett is an orphan and she has been working for Child and Youth Protection since almost fifty years.”

Suddenly it dawns on me why everybody is so overprotective with our neighbour. “You should have told me right from the start!” I scold Uncle Alex, who basically backs off from me.

And I have kept wondering why Mistress Anil has so many criminals and crazy persons in her family.

My father can be rather mad when it comes to my safety. Why should it not work vice versa? All these foster children simply try to keep harm from the woman they love. Now everything makes sense.

“Grown-ups are complicated,” I sigh. “And Daddy's feud with the neighbours is almost epic.”

“Feud? Epic? I wonder where you learn such words,” he mutters good-natured. “You sound like a grown-up woman at times.”

“I read a lot, plus I have my therapy sessions with Doctor Robotham. Boy, can he talk funny. Like a lexicon.”

Uncle Alex nods to himself. “Yeah, makes sense. You are around too many grown-ups. Glad that Max has a boy about your age. You really need that.”

I take all my courage together, because I need to get something off my chest right now that has nothing to do with Zevulon and my feelings for him. “I am sad that I have become part of Daddy's war, but glad at least that you are honest with me.” My voice is low, but I know that his ears pick up each word of mine anyway. “I will stay off the Anil property, okay?”

A shiver runs through Uncle Alex. “You have no clue how much your promise means to me.”

The next thing I feel is that he buries his big nose in my hair. And he cries a bit. Which is a rare occasion.

“You are a great kid.”

********************************************************************

Not much later my godfather brings me back to Zev. But instead of returning to his two sabacc partners, he slides into the tent and scoops up beside me.

“I think your parcel is safe, Agent Kallus,” I assure him, being slightly unnerved in my sleeping bag now.

“Get to sleep, asset,” he yawns, immediately pulling me back into his arms. “This is my covert mission. Radio silence, please! I am going off-line.”

“Uncle Alex!” I scold him, to no avail. His grip intensifies by a fifty percent. “Really?”

“When the cake talks the little crumbs stay silent,” he utters in a sleepy, contented voice.

Sometimes he says the most ridiculous things in the universe. That he has in common with Daddy. This is why I love them both. Because they can be so sweet and funny at the same time. I wonder if Zevulon will be like them when he comes of age. Actually, I would not mind it very much. I like it when a person can make me smile.

But sometimes, I prefer the company of more serious individuals like my Chiss friend Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Doctor Robotham or my dark prince.

********************************************************************

It takes Uncle Alex less than five minutes to enter dreamland. His arms start to weigh heavily on me.

Like a little snake I start to wind out of his embrace.

Lucky for me, he starts moving closer towards Zevulon, who just whispers, “Rainbow!”

Moments later they roll against one another and start to hug, but none of them wakes up.

I keep my giggles as low as I can.

Once out of the tent, I cannot help to cherish the night air. It never smells so clean on Coruscant. Neither at day time and certainly not at night.

I start walking through the little apple orchard.

Perhaps one day we can visit Gramps when the trees are in bloom. Or help him at harvest time.

I choose a random tree to lean against. “Hi!” I whisper. “Nice to make your acquaintance. My name is Cassandra.”

Its top branches move in answer.

We remain leaning against one another, the tree and me.

One of my fairy tale books has a story in it that gives me the impression that the apple indicates choice. Plus is useful for love and healing magic.

My fingers wander over the smooth bark.

I should heal the wounds of the Clone Wars with love, being the adopted daughter of an apple farmer's son.

********************************************************************

Daddy and Mister Veers are so busy talking to one another, that they are startled when I announce from Uncle Alex seat, “Okay, how does Sabacc work?”

The men stare at me as if I would make a mess in the tidiest officer's club on Coruscant right now.

“Is this about me being a girl?” I sulk.

“It's more an age issue.”

That notion annoys me, because it's unfair to keep me away from this sabacc table just because of some age limit.

“Cassandra,” the special forces man argues. “Why would I teach you something that I would not show my own son, who is much older than you?”

“Because the third party will not be back.”

“Why?”

“Well, that is for me to know and for you to wonder about, gentlemen.”

Saying thus, I pick up the cards, suspiciously eyeing the stash of Imperial credits that my godfather has made in so far. It is a little fortune really. He must be very good at it.

Gleefully, Daddy rubs his hands together. “You would really play on for dear Alex? Instead of being a good girl, tucked up in bed where you belong at this time?”

I think of the hopelessly overcrowded tent and the possible fun around here in this barn. “Yepp,” I say with a nod.

Mister Veers grins. “She really comes after you, Orson. Feisty, inventive, adventurous and never quiet convinced that all the rules apply equally to her.”

For a brief instant Daddy looks troubled, but not for long. A grin shows up on his thin lips. “Whatever must be, must be, I suppose. Prepare for battle, little soldier.”

“Yes, sir!” I salute.

His smile turns beastly. “And we will not go gentle with you, just because you are six years old.”

“Six, really?” Zevulon's father looks surprised. “She sounds like a much older child.”

Daddy shrugs that off. “Goes with the family. See, I was highly-gifted, too.”

Even though it is sweet of him to say that, yet I can sense a slight nervousness in him. He has that all the time people ask about my age. Usually, he blames my mother not having done her best. Tonight he goes for a different strategy. Perhaps the alcohol makes Mister Veers forget that I am adopted.

“Strange though she has ginger hair, Orson.”

“Oh, that is hair dye. Cassie is a natural brunette, but she wanted to look like one of her fairy tale princesses. The Little Mermaid from Naboo.”

Daddy threw in that bait a little too quickly, but the other Imperial officer falls for it nevertheless.

“Now, Max, can we get playing again?” he inquires with a stern look. “Or do you wait for dawn? Or even that my daughter has her natural hair colour back again?”

********************************************************************

Of course I am soon losing against them, but sabacc is a fun game anyway. So many rules to grasp, so many steps to consider. Plus one must keep a straight face.

Unfortunately, I fall asleep somewhere during the night.

When I wake up again, it is pitch dark in the barn and I am not sitting at the table any longer. My head rests on a soft pillow and there is a warm blanket around me. I also feel the familiar weight of my father's arm, spooning behind me.

“Did an insect crawl into your ear?” he asks softly, his chin leaned on my right shoulder.

“No.”

“Why are you awake then?” he probes.

“And you?” I strike back. My eyelids are heavy, but I struggle to keep them open.

“Too much on my mind, Cassie dear,” he confesses, playing idly with one of my pig tails. “But at least I can enjoy your company.”

“Would another shot of Corellian whiskey help?”

“A shot? Whiskey is to be enjoyed and not to be senselessly flushed down.” He laughs. But not for long. With a much more serious voice he adds, “And if I catch you drinking before your eighteenth birthday, you will be grounded forever. There will be various large cell blocks in my battle station.”

“Battle station?” I turn around and look at the outlines of his face.

“Forget it, it's only the alcohol speaking,” Daddy defends himself.

“You barely touched your glass,” I remind him. “But you were busy to give Mister Veers one shot after the other. Because you wanted to win.”

“My clever girl!” he praises me and kisses my neckline. “Sweet as!”

I snuggle against him, my face nestled against his chest. There is no need to ask questions about his work, when he is not allowed to answer them. I decide to return to the starting point of our little debate. “Sabacc is a mix of show, prediction, observation and chance, right?”

He chuckles and it makes me warm all over my body. “Oh Cassie!”

That gives me an idea. “If I ever find out your weaknesses in Sabacc, I could learn to win from you right?”

“Let's see about that. First survive the rest of tonight on this straw mattress I made for us.”

Daddy truly is an inventive master architect. It worries me that he talked about building a battle station. But then again he is in the Imperial forces. I bet his superiors would not let him build fairytale castles or family homes. Which is a pity.

“Sleep now, little soldier!” he addresses me sharply. “Or I put my weapon on stun.”

“You would never aim at me.”

“Oh yeah? Then watch this.”

His fingers tickle me until I cannot breathe properly.

“You've… won,” I moan, each word a pain.

“That was not our safe word,” he chuckles. “But I will have mercy on you. For now! If you make an effort to sleep.”

********************************************************************

At dawn I am waken by a queer alarm. Then there is shouting outside. In an instant Daddy is on his feet, storming away with his DT-29 heavy blaster pistol raised. Even without his uniform on he looks like a deadly foe.

“Stay down!” he bites out.

I obey and press myself deep into the straw mattress like a little squall, Chandrila's native lagomorphs.

Several minutes pass.

When Daddy finally comes back, a smiley man with a red beard and a weird hair cut is walking right beside him. He carries a huge wicker basket. “Oh hallo, there!” he greets me cheerfully. “I just wanted to drop something at Master Agrippa's front door. Did not mean to startle anybody on this property.”

Daddy huffs like a little dragon trying to produce fire. “Onya!”

“Are you the milkman?” I check.

He shakes his head. “But I have other goodies to offer, Cassandra.”

That he knows my name calms me down even further, though Daddy is more tense than ever. But that must be his protective instinct, for I can sense no danger in his companion.

Now that they are coming closer to my straw bed, I can see that the stranger's complexion is very fair and that he has cute freckles like all natural gingers. He gives me such a warm and loving look that I feel like a melting ice cream cone.

“I am so sorry that I woke you up, child!”

With a shiver I remember the Mandalorian bounty hunter calling me exactly thus last night. But it did not stop him making empty threats concerning my family.

“Fair crack of the whip! You woke up freckin' everybody!” my father thunders.

The ginger-haired man stays calm and friendly, his smile never leaving his bearded face or his baby blue eyes. “Last time I checked, Orry, your father had no motion alarm installed. His neighbours and friends were free to visit him at any time.”

“Be glad Alex decided against frying unwanted visitors with high voltage! I wouldn't have.” Daddy gets more aggressive by the minute. I can see his carotid artery pumping like mad. “Anyway, what's with the beard?”

“Came straight home from an undercover mission. Did not even have the time to change, Orry. You like it?”

“You look like some hobo from Coruscant's lower levels.”

The stranger rips off his beard in one clean go.

“Cool, you are an ISB agent like Uncle Alex,” I cheer.

“Indeed I am. But I work at a different department. Special Forces.”

I frown. “But Mister Veers is no spy.”

“Oh my!” The stranger laughs out loud. “Max is here?”

“With his family.”

As if on cue, I spot Zevulon running towards us. But there is no sign of Uncle Alex. I hope that my godfather is not taking cover outside the barn, holding his AB-75 bo-rifle in aiming position.

“Alex is already in the kitchen, Cassandra,” the stranger addresses me gently, almost cooing. “We agreed it would be the best to prepare some tea and caf.”

I watch him putting down the basket and lifting the large dish towel. There are at least a dozen of eggs, three jam jars, an elegant milk churn and several slices of bacon, contained in a glass box. “That is a lot,” I wonder aloud.

“See, my brothers gave me breakfast goodies for an entire stormtrooper squad.”  
  
I scan his face. “Who are your brothers?”  
  
“One of them refers to me as 'carrot', but that's okay because I name him 'bunny' in return.”  
  
I giggle, even though he has avoided to really answer my question.  
  
“But you can call me by my real name of course. It is Crix. Crix Madine.”  
  
I gasp for air.

 

**Translation** **from the Chandrilan** **rural dialect into Basic:**  
_Fair crack of the whip!_ = Give me a break!  
_(Good) Onya!_ = Said both with and without good, this expression is short for “good on you” meaning “great job” or “well done”.  
_Sweet as_ = Sweet, awesome, terrific!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	16. Chapter 16

I can tell from Gramps' eyes that he is torn between delight and terror once he is faced with his guest.

“Drav asked me over. To offer his excuses for his recent behaviour.”

I can watch that Daddy´s lips thinned, especially when the ginger-haired man kneels down like some kind of gallant knight.

“I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive Dravits, my dear Agrippa.”

Daddy looks as though he wants to add something to his old neighbour, but he shuts his lips together in a firm line.

“Of late my mother's heart has not been the best,” the ginger-haired man moves on. “Comes with her high age the family doctor says.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can hinder them. “And having so many badly behaved children.”

Crix Madine's shock is but short lived. His humour kicks in again. “You have not met my little sister Mara yet...”

He pauses for a while.

I narrow my eyes.

Then he asks, “Can you try to trust me?”

“Can you try to trust me?”

The way that he asks me that makes my heart heavy. There is so much hope, yet fear of rejection in his voice. The mix of his feelings makes me dizzy, even though his face stays a calm surface.

“If Daddy is okay with you being here and Gramps does not mind either, I certainly won't show you out.” I pause. “But I do not want to hear any insults or childhood stories at our _brekkie_ table.”

Daddy still shows signs of worry and anxiety. Plus I do not like his red-rimmed eyes.

There is only one solution.

“Shake hands with Daddy and mean it!” I pipe up. “No hard feelings anymore!”

“Are we okay, Orry?” Crix Madine enquires with a sad, forlorn look.

“Yes,” Daddy breezes back, barely looking at the other man.

“Oh, c'mon!” I say, forcing my voice to remain level so I wouldn't worsen the situation. “Chin up, Daddy!”

He sighs.

“You've heard your daughter, Orry,” Crix Madine tries to encourage him. “Let's do it!”

Daddy looks chagrined, and he grimaces. “What choice do I have? The lady of the house has spoken.”

Both gaze at one another.

Suddenly, they exchange a handshake, that takes longer than necessary.

“For the sake of old times,” Daddy mumbles.

“To new chances, Daddy,” I correct him.

********************************************************************

Throughout _brekkie_ I keep an eye on our guest, just to be on the safe side. Even though he has a sunny nature and makes far better jokes than Zevulon, I feel that something is still wrong. It's like electrical charges filling the air. Not as bad what occurred between my dark prince and Daddy, but there still is tension. My chest hurts from it.

Chewing thoughtfully on my 'Avo' smash on toast I cannot take my eyes off the ginger-haired man. “You are not a native Chandrilan,” I suggest into the open.

“That's right, Cassandra.” He flashes me a grin. “I am originally from Corellia.”

“The star system or the planet itself?”

“Cassie dear, let the man eat!” urges Daddy. “He has been at too many interrogations in his life already. He doesn't need one right now. Not so early in the morning.”

Crix Madine makes a mollifying gesture. “That's okay, Orry. I would like to indulge the girl.”

“More caf instead?” Uncle Alex, who is still wearing one of Gran's old kitchen aprons, throws in. But that apron does not make him look any less dangerous.

I place my cutlery on my plate. “Why is everybody so tense?”

“I am not!” complains Zevulon.

“Argh! Wasn't talking about you!” I roll my eyes at my friend and turn to the very person in this room who sucks all the light and happiness in like a black hole. “Mister Madine came here to apologize for his brother. Why can't I have a normal chat with him? Geez, Daddy!”

In slow motion, my godfather sinks back into his chair again. “No caf then!” he considers darkly.

Our visitor laughs out loud. A wonderful sound that comes straight from his soul, overflows, and bubbles all around the room. “Please forgive your father, Cassandra! Some of us are haunted by the past more than others.”

With a sigh I hide my face in my right palm. “Then let the past die, Daddy! We all live in the here and now.” I lower my hand again, looking straight at him. “Talking about Corellia is not high treason or an offence against His Imperial Majesty. Or do you fear that I possibly could bring up the subject of yarn bombing?”

“Yarn bombing?” Mister Veers throws in very excitedly.

His wife, Cornelia, places her slender hand on top of his. “That's an art form, sweetie pie. Not a military action.”

“Oh!” he blushes, clearly disappointed.

Daddy and I stare at each other, until a smile lurks in a corner of his mouth.

“Recently, I went to the Coruscant Intergalactic Art Gallery with Cassie. She was very impressed.”

“That is an understatement, Daddy,” I pout. “It was fantastic.”

Before I can mention that I have meet and befriended Mitth'raw'nuruodo, a legend on his own, Zevulon clears his throat. The tips of his ears are slightly pinkish. “If you like, Cass, we could visit the Skydome Botanical Gardens on Coruscant together. It's in the Fobosi district.”

I gape at him.

Instead of 'rainbow' my friend just called me Cass. I have a thousands of colourful butterflies in my tummy, flapping their wings. “If Daddy allows me...”

“We'll see,.”

Zevulon's mother straightens her back. “I could also take the children, Orson. You are pretty busy with your building project at present.”

“Building project?” Crix Madine wrinkles his nose. “That sounds exciting. Would you like to tell us about it?”

Daddy puts on his sabacc face. “Classified. Sorry!”

“Fair enough.”

With a grin Daddy slurs, “And were you not the one who once said, 'I've come to the conclusion that those people who truly do great deeds don't feel the need to talk about them all the time.'? According to this little agenda of yours, why should I?"

“Caf?” stresses my godfather and rises with the thermos again.

Crix Madine nods, looking even stiffer than Jay when he does that. Which is impressive for someone who is not a droid.

********************************************************************

After breakfast, the neighbour's son takes his leave again, but not without reaching out for my head and patting it. “You are the best work of your father,” he says.

With burning eyes Daddy sees Crix Madine out. Not only does he bring the man to the front-door. He walks him down all the way to the end of the property. Perhaps he is a good host after all.

The rest of the day is almost uneventful. No big dramas, but no tranquillity either. Uncle Alex decides to take Zevulon and me to the shooting range, while Daddy announces to do some grocery shopping in town with the rest of the Veers family.

The most unusual sandwiches wait for us in the kitchen, when we return hours later from our harsh outdoor experiences: Chandrilan 'fairy bread' as Jay refers to it.

Gramps, sitting in his rocking chair, smiles at us kids, while we greedily eat the sliced white bread, that is spread with butter and covered with colourful sugar and starch balls.

“Master Agrippa wants me to tell you that those balls are called 'hundreds and thousands' on this planet.”

“Did you make the breads, Jay?” I inquire.

“No, Mistress Cassandra. Your father did before flying off with the Veers. And he also asked me to give you a message, when the right moment has occurred.”

I get nervous.

“Master Orson wants you to be aware of the fact that you are sweeter than any sprinkle chips.”

********************************************************************

That night Daddy does not return to the farm. Uncle Alex brings me to bed instead. Of course he tells me a good-night story and has a tender kiss for me. But he has work to do and cannot stay on. I act brave and understanding.

The Empire needs his able officers to keep evil at bay. Who am I to be in the way with my longing and childish needs?

Soon, I toss around restlessly.

The bed is simply too large without Daddy. My little Vader plush is but a poor substitute.

After a while I start singing to myself.

_“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_  
_How I wonder what you are._  
_Up above the world so high,_  
_Like a diamond in the sky._

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_  
_How I wonder what you are._  
_When the blazing sun is gone,_

_When he nothing shines upon,_  
_Then you show your little light,_  
_Twinkle, twinkle, all the night._  
_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_

_How I wonder what you are._  
_Then the traveller in the dark,_  
_Thanks you for your tiny spark,_  
_He could not see which way to go,_  
_If you did not twinkle so._  
_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_  
_How I wonder what you are._

_In the dark blue sky you keep,_  
_And often through my curtains peep,_  
_For you never shut your eye,_  
_Till the sun is in the sky._  
_Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_  
_How I wonder what you are.”_

I sniff into my pillows.

Daddy is a far better singer than I am. Plus he has a profound knowledge of songs. Not only lullabies. I like the juicy army songs and drinking ballads best. They are full of life and fun.

********************************************************************

The hours crawl by like years, even though I try to count TIE fighters that I imagine to fly around my head like flies.

Around midnight, not having slept a single moment, I have an idea.

Laboriously, I get up and sneak into the _ensuite_ bathroom.

To get the bottle with Daddy's precious fragrance from the shelf is a bit tricky. It's very bulky and heavy. Finally, the object of desire is mine and I manage to get hold of it without breaking it.

Back in bed, I greedily open the bottle.

The dry scent, that greets me, has hints of amber and bergamot.

I conjure up images of Daddy without any real effort. He seems to be right at my side. Smiley, happy, relaxed. The way that I like him best.

Sighing with joy, I start to sprinkle drops of fragrance on the pillows. I hope that they leave no stains. And if they do, that they can be washed out easily.

Perhaps Jay knows about such matters. Gramps might not leave stains on purpose, but being so old and immobile there must be a lot of accidents.

Not much later I fall asleep with a big smile plastered on my face.

********************************************************************

The next day, still dizzy from the fragrance, I give my best to concentrate on our visitors, especially on my new playmate. Zevulon in return makes so many jokes that my belly starts to hurt with laughter.

At dinner time I am told by Misses Veers that urgent business requires Daddy on Eadu. By the mentioning of that planet Uncle Alex looks grim, which tells me that there is something amiss with Mister Erso once more.

“When Daddy is really there, he won't be able to talk to me on the HoloNet tonight, right?” I ask my godfather.

“Most signals are blocked by the high-energy thermosphere,” he confirms. “Might be too difficult for your good old dad to get through. But he will be desperate enough to try.”

“Until his fingers bleed?”

“That sounds exactly like Orson.”

I feel that something touches my knee and begins to stroke it.

When I check I can see a small foot without a boot on.

Zevulon looks as apologetic as he can.

That makes me smile despite all.

********************************************************************

Some time later, Cornelia offers to do my hair for me. I must say that she excels even Uncle Alex by doing so.

, for I am to call her by her first noffers to do my hair for me. I must say that she excels even Uncle Alex by doing so.

Some time later, Conny – for I am to call Cornelia Veers thus from now on – offers to do my hair for me. I must say that she excels even Uncle Alex by doing so.

The same evening the grown-ups let Zevulon and me sleep in the tent again, while Uncle Alex takes camp in the barn with night vision devices and bugging devices. He calls it 'field exercise' but I know this is because of Dravits Draven and Boba Fett.

On day two without Daddy, Max hires a real sailing boat for all of us. We are to travel the Silver Sea for a day trip. We fish our own food and prepare it together in the galley.

A visit in one of the Gladean State Parks is the next goodie on our holiday bucket list. My godfather put it down and he was right to do so. The nature on Chandrila is stunning. It makes me wish that I could stay on this planet forever. The street canyons of Coruscant are no match to all this beauty and majesty around me.

On my forth day without Daddy it is Conny who suggests the target destination. She wants us all to see the Hanna Institute of Antiquities, but in the end her husband decides to stay behind. He insists to help Jay with some necessary repairs on Gramps' property instead.

Our ride in the old X-34 is a bit rough, but we arrive at our destination in one piece.

Soon, I am enchanted by so much history all around me. It is so vibrant and exciting to gaze at ancient artefacts from our fore-bearers.

After a while I ask to be left on a metal bench, from which I have the best view on an exhibit piece from the Tion Hegemony.

Earlier on, my godfather had joked about this particular region. He had referred to it as being poorly administered backwater nowadays. But at its height, being an essential part of the Kingdom of Cron, the hegemony had been glorious.

While I keep studying the former booty of the pirat Xer, two men pass me by. One of them wears a woollen coat. Actually, his entire garments are simple, but he moves like some kind of nobleman. There is an interesting chain around his neck. I cannot help to gaze at it. Our eyes meet and he gives me a smile. He lifts a hand and his companion ceases to speak to him.

“I hope you are not lost,” the stranger says to me in a pleasant voice.

“No, sir,” I reply in honest. “Just looking at all the riches Xer gathered to become a king much later in his life.”

“Ah! A young lady with taste and knowledge.”

But before the stranger can continue talking to me, Uncle Alex runs towards us. There is a wild fire in his eyes. “I was not aware you were in town, old friend,” he addresses the man a little sharper than necessary. “How come?”

“Do you need to keep a tag on me, Alexsandr?” the other man asks mildly surprised.

“After all you have pulled, you old scoundrel.”

The bearded man grins. “You make me sound like a ladies man.”

“If those ladies are ancient mummies...”

They shake hands like old friends, but the tenseness never leaves Uncle Alex' shoulders.

“I took some days off around The Festival of Stars,” he explains to the stranger. “Overtime that has piled up for quite some time now.”

“Guarding us all must indeed make you a very busy person.” The bearded man turns towards his companion. “Raphael, this is my old friend, Alexsandr Kallus. A government agent.”

My godfather furrows his brows. “You are not by any chance Raphael Drayson, the director of this institute?”

“Well spotted, Agent Kallus,” the bald human smiles. “I can tell that my tax money is well invested in clever men like you.”

“Raph wanted to show me some artefacts of interest,” the bearded man cuts in. “And later on, I wanted to pay Gita a visit. It has been a while since I last saw her. We have some catching up to do.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Well, give the old girl my regards.” Uncle Alex tries to sound light, but he cannot fool me. His emotions do not fit to his face. Nor do his shoulders, that are even tighter than before. “I am too busy babysitting my niece Morrígain these days.”

I press my lips together, gnarling on my tongue.

My godfather can lie without blushing. I suppose that this is a skill that any good secret service man has. He is forced to live in a bubble, like most of his fellow ISB agents. It must be tough not trusting anybody. There is the constant mystery of who said what to whom. A kind of shared paranoia really.

I make a decision for myself. An essential one. I should not be cross with Uncle Alex for introducing me under my second name. If he wants this to be a covert affair, I can play along. I will make him proud.

“Oh, this is your niece!” exclaims the stranger.

“With three older sisters, I was destined to become an uncle. In one way or another.”

When I feel his fingers on my shoulders, I start to squeeze them gently in reply and put on my brightest smile. “Uncle Alex is the best!” I exclaim cheerfully without even lying.

“I know.” Now the bearded man turns a bit sad. “And I miss him very much at times, but we simply moved apart over the years.”

I crook my head in question.

“Your uncle is a field agent. I am more of a bookworm, Morrígain.”

I can tell he wants to say more, but he chooses not to. Instead he puts out his hand once more and my godfather shakes it.

When I take a closer look I notice something odd about their grip. They form it by placing the fingers in the form of a tokken's paw. That must be a secret sign language.

“You know where I am if you need me,” Uncle Alex urges his old friend. “I owe you.”

The stranger smiles and it is a very sweet smile, tugging at the strings of my heart. “You don't,” he stresses. “We have an agreement, you and I. One that I will honour until the end of days.”

“There must be something that I can do for you,” my godfather presses on, somewhat grey in his face. “Please!”

“Well, if you must.” There is a considerate pause. “I'd rather hope that I stay off the radar. So if any of your superiors asks, especially Veris Hydan, I was not here today.”

“Will you ever learn?” Uncle Alex smirks.

“This one was too good to miss. He could be my evil twin. Even our professors used to mix us up when addressing us at university seminars.”

My godfather shakes his head in dismay. “Be gone before I make up my mind about a thorough investigation!”

“May the Force be with you, Alexandr.”

There is a mixture of shock and rage, and then, oddly guilt. “Hail the Empire!” Uncle Alex bites out.

_************************************************************_

I wait until the bearded man and the museum director are gone. Only then I pipe up, “This man, is he a criminal?”  
  
“I fear that his latest actions have turned him into one.”  
  
Happiness looks different. I am fully aware of the dark clouds in Uncle Alex eyes.

“He is one of the best historians of all times, but instead of publishing reasonable theses in his field of expertise, he managed to upset a few high ranking members of our government.”

“How can a historian become Enemy Number One?” I muse.  
  
“By stealing from our beloved head of state, for example.”  
  
He turns his back on me and stares at the exhibition pieces without really seeing them.  
  
“Why is the Emperor so keen on historical items, Uncle Alex?”  
  
The answer does not come immediately. “He is a collector of some kind, sweetie.”  
  
“Any century he is most interested in?”  
  
“I am not a historian myself. It's therefore hard to tell.” Uncle Alex makes a face. “Your curiosity knows no boundaries today, does it?”  
  
“No?”

My voice has a pleading tone that I cannot control. It does the trick.

“Well, our beloved Palpatine has many castles, apartments and holiday resorts. I suppose he needs fancy stuff to fill all those thousands of rooms with.”  
  
I sigh. “If His Majesty would have children on his own, he would be a less material man.”  
  
My godfather gives me a queer look, but then he ruffles my hair. “We should go back to the others now. If your legs are too tired, I can carry you.”  
  
************************************************************  
  
At the institute's cafeteria we all have so-called _'jelly slices'_. This local _dessert_ is made with fresh fruit topping that matches the colour of the jelly.

 While everybody else gets a slice with orange topping, I go for a purple one with white stripes.

 Zevulon smiles at me. “Still into Jogan fruits?”

 I shrug. “It's a taste that I know and happen to like.”

“Wanna have a bite from my meiloorun fruit topping?” he offers.

I shake my head. “Orange is so not my colour.”

“Which is wrong.” He scoffs, but not for long. With a much more serious tone of voice he adds, “Because your hair looks nice this way.”

His compliment makes me blush. And I cannot help but to giggle.

“Wanna have a bite now?” Zevulon tries once more.

“Hum, I suppose.”

I must say my friend is very clever. Something to watch out for. Otherwise he always will win an argument. 

************************************************************

 When we return home in the evening, there is a wooden crate on the veranda, blocking the main door.  
  
“Perhaps it's a bomb from that Draven guy,” jokes Zevulon.  
  
“Negative,” assumes Uncle Alex. His tone is light, but his blue eyes remind me of twin maelstroms.  
  
I step up to the crate. It has no lid on and smells strongly of apples. Inside I can spot is a grey woollen blanket, military property by the looks of it for it has the Imperial crest.  
  
On top of the blanket is an envelope saying my name. I recognize the neat handwriting at once. It's Daddy's. But I am too distracted to pick up the message and read it.  
  
The blanket moves all by itself. There is something alive underneath it.

I stiffen my spine, deciding not to give into fear. Instead I open the gates of my mind and scan.

Muddled thoughts reach me. They do not come from a human mind.  
  
Gingerly, I step back and straight into something solid.  
  
My fingers touch fabric.

I smile, pretty sure what I feel.

Military breeches show extra width in the thigh area, even though Daddy is not an equestrian. It's simply Imperial style.  
  
“Afraid, little soldier?” he asks with mirth.  
  
I turn around to face him, seeing that he is wearing his snow-white rain poncho and his Imperial hat.  
  
“Not sure,” I answer.  
  
The blanket moves like a lake surface on a stormy day.  
  
Muffled yelps can be heard.  
  
An idea forms in me.  
  
“Then let us check the situation together.” Daddy places an encouraging hand on my left shoulder. “Will you need my blaster?”  
  
I shake my head.  
  
His DT-29 heavy blaster pistol is not always the solution to matters at hand.  
  
“Go on then!” He blows a kiss against my scalp.  
  
In one clean go, the blanket is gone and I stare into a pair of small, yellowish eyes.

Everyone is silent, as though in suspended animation.

Then my mouth twitches. Straight into a big smile.

 ********************************************************************  
  
The skin is hairless and white. The proportion between head and legs does not seem right. And the nostrils are bigger than the eye area. All in all the animal in front of me looks like the love child between a rancor and a canine.

“What, in the Name of the Empire, is that?” Uncle Alex laughs.  
  
“A Corellian hound!” shrieks Zevulon. “How cool is that?”  
  
“Seriously?” asks my godfather and cocks an eyebrow at Daddy.  
  
“I never make a _prezzie_ in vain, Alex.”

“In plain Basic, please.”

“A present, _drongo_.”

While they discuss, I kneel in front of the puppy, that wears a pinkish ribbon around its neck. “Awww!” I breath. “Are you not cute?”  
  
“I have never seen a more despicable creature,” cajoles my godfather.  
  
“Pick it up by the neck!” whispers Zevulon. “Like his mommy would.”  
  
“It will not hurt it?” I give back.  
  
Zevulon winks. “Those animals are a tough breed. Corellian weather is ghastly, Cas.”  
  
I do as I am asked, surprised how light the puppy is. It yelps excitedly.  
  
They can all say what they want. For me it is love at first sight.  
  
When I move my present close to my face, a damp and rough tongue starts licking my nose.

********************************************************************  
  
Because the puppy is male, I decide to call it Boomer. It is a common name for animals here in Chandrila's Westcountry.  
  
For the rest of the holidays Zevulon and I try our best to train Boomer to get clean around the house. I want him to be well-behaved when returning to Coruscant with us. Not only because of Daddy giving it a thoughtful look now and again. He is up to something.  
  
One night in bed I dare to address my suspicions. “You want him to get military training, right?”  
  
“Zev?” Daddy yawns. “Well, I would not mind that. He is a bit wild.”  
  
I poke into his ribs.  
  
“Hey! Only saying,” he complains.  
  
“You want Boomer...”  
  
An excited little mass joins us in bed, licking both of us tenderly.  
  
“Yuck!” Daddy shrieks and gets the Corellian hound by its neck. “You smell worse than a sarlacc pit.”  
  
Boomer farts to that.  
  
“Oh dear,” Daddy comments sourly. “Never had such problems with you.”  
  
“Because I was no baby when you got me,” I giggle.  
  
“I should have gotten a much older hound, but I wanted him to bond with you straight away.” He sighs. “Look, Boomer, she is your job from now on! I want you to protect her with your life.”  
  
I kiss Daddy's right cheek. “That is a clever idea, but I fear neither Mister Draven or Mister Fett will be scared.”  
  
Before I realize what is happening, Daddy plucks off Boomer, jumps out of bed and yells Uncle Alex' name with some rude words attached to it.  
  
********************************************************************  
  
While the Veers family returns to their beds, dizzy and tired, Daddy and my godfather argue on in the apple orchard. Jay keeps me company. With his mechanical arms pressed against his sides, he gazes outside the window.  
  
“And Master Orson calls me an overprotective hen when it's up to Master Agrippa,” the droid tuts through it's voice modulator. “That serves the boy well.”

I want to throw in that Daddy is not a boy any more, but I am sure that Jay is stubborn about that.

“Master Alexandr gives him the scolding that he deserves.”  
  
I gaze up at the thin robot in despair, pressing Boomer against my chest. “Why is everybody acting so strange around me?”  
  
“It appears that there are some complications with your true heritage,” Jay answers straight away. “You are not the person you think that you are.”  
  
Big-eyed, I stare into his metal face.  
  
“But that is classified information that I am not allowed to give you under any circumstances. Fact is that Master Orson loves you very much and does want you to grow up without any complications. As his daughter.”  
  
A strange mix of confusion and gratefulness overwhelms me.  
  
Who else should I be when not me?

********************************************************************  
  
“Does it really matter?” There is an undertone in Lord Vader's electronic voice. “Search your feelings, Cassandra!”

I stare at the subspace transceiver, not sure what to feel.

“I am waiting,” he reminds me after a while.

“Well, I suppose...”

“Do not suppose!” my dark prince instructs me. “Look inside you and tell me what you feel!”

I pause some moments before answering, “Confused.”

“No anger?” He sounds a bit too eager asking about that.

“Nope.”

He appears honestly scandalized by my words. “Anger can fuel your growth in strength,” he barks. “The more you hate, the more powerful you can become.”

I start gnarling on my lips.

“Is there a need for revenge?” Lord Vader wants to know, obviously having gained his composure back.

“Why would I…?”

“Then my answer is simple to you,” he interrupts me. “Except the truth that your father loves you.”

I wiggle my legs. Boomer is asleep in my lap and looks cute. “Are you loved?”

His answer comes too quick. “Love is insignificant next to the power of the dark side.”

“Are your parents still alive?”

His breath is like a gust of wind.

“Are they?”

His silence is answer enough.

“I am very sorry for your loss.”

We remain silent for a while, both feeling a bit shy after the frankness of our exchange.

“You need to control your curiosity, Cassandra,” my dark prince says gravely. “Not everybody can ask me such questions and remain alive.”

“The universe is complicated,” I sulk. “Grown-ups are.”

“Learn to live with it!”

I lie down on my belly, clutching the subspace transceiver tighter. “Perhaps I am a slow learner.”

“I find you very resourceful.”

His praise makes me glow. But my original question remains.

He seems to be aware of it. “Be glad that you have a loving parent, Cassandra. In our Empire some children grow up without parents at all.”

“You mean like clones?”

There is a brief pause. “Why would you bring that subject up?”

“Zevulon told me they grow in tubes very much like plants.”

“That boy is more imaginative than you are!”

There is a knock at the door.

“I need to let Jay in.”

“Who is he?”

“My grandfather's geriatric droid.”

He ponders on that, but not for too long. “You seem to be found of that machine.”

“Jay is more than circuits, metal parts and a program.” I flush scarlet. “He is a person, you know.”

“Notified.” Somehow Lord Vader sounds smug and happy alike. “Now hang up and do not let this Jay wait! We can talk another time, Cassandra.”

He disconnects the line before I can even say a kind word of good-bye.

As much as I like our conversations, they leave me somehow bereft and with more questions than before.

“May I come back in, Mistress Cassandra?” Jay inquires, no impatience coming from him, because it is not part of his personality. In this he differs greatly from Lord Vader and, to be honest, from me, too.

********************************************************************  
  
I wake up when Daddy tries to sneak into bed. “Are you mad with me?” I whisper while his arms slide around me.  
  
“With you?” he snaps and then adds much more softly. “No, of course not. But Alex should have told me that this Mandalorian clown was here.”  
  
“He did not want to upset you,” I argue on my godfather's behalf.  
  
Daddy draws me closer to his chest, careful not to smother Boomer who squeezes himself between us with whimpering sounds. “We swore to be truthful to one another. No matter what! Especially when it's about your upbringing.”  
  
I get the impression that there is a big secret concerning me, but there is no need to dig into it.  
  
My dark prince is right. Love is all around me. That is the only reality that I need.  
  
“Did you make peace, Daddy?” I mumble.  
  
“Ceasefire, sort of.”  
  
“You should not go to bed without shaking hands.”  
  
He scoffs. “There was some shaking involved.”  
  
“Uncle Alex is not the enemy,” I remind him.  
  
“He can be such a fiend, that little bugger.”  
  
I press my nose against his chest. “Language, Daddy!”  
  
“You do not want me to lie either, Cassandra!” he complaints. “What you get here is one-hundred percent authenticity.”  
  
I roll my eyes. “Boba Fett never wanted to kill me. That is not who he is.”  
  
“Ha! And you know better then the ISB who has him under close surveillance!”  
  
“Some trust would become you, Daddy,” I sigh.  
  
The night lamp flashes on. “Listen carefully now! I once lost somebody who was too trustful. And who had a problem shutting the freck up when it most mattered.”  
  
I frame his face with both hands, that looks so awfully white and agitated. “But I am not Ina,” I assure him. “I am your daughter. That makes me a resourceful survivor, right?”  
  
His lips move, but no sounds come out.  
  
“I will learn to shot and if you must, you can train Boomer to protect me by any means that you consider necessary.”  
  
Before he can hinder me, I switch the light off.  
  
“Let us sleep now!” I decide.  
  
My pet barks happily to that.


	18. Chapter 18

At _brekkie_ it is agreed that we will all visit the Crystal Canyons together. Daddy talked about them in one of his bedside stories for me before. They are an enormous gallery of natural rock formations and beautiful crystals.

“Will we get a guided tour?” Zevulon inquires. “And do we visit the tomb of the third Barsen'thor?”

“Who?” asks Daddy somewhat distracted, gazing up from his datapad with round eyes.

“That's an honorary title for the warden of the Jedi order.”

All the grown-ups at the table cease their chatter.

“Jedi order?” repeats Daddy slowly, his face emotionless.

“Yeah, I know what they did to the Emperor, but...”

“Do you, Zevulon Veers?” Daddy puts his datapad on the table and folds his hands in front of him.

“Orson!” warns Uncle Alex.

Daddy shudders and all the tenseness leaves his body. “Now listen, boy! I want to see crystals in their natural habitat. Not the grave site of some traitor.”

My friend wants to answer something spicy, but his mother quickly throws in, “We already had some history at the Hanna Institute yesterday.”

“Oh?” Daddy sounds innocent, but his eyes do not match his voice. “Is there anything else you forgot to mention, my dear Alexandr?”

My godfather raises full height. “If you must know, you know who was there.”

“Not really, no.”

“The historian.”

“Right!” Daddy also gets up, but much slower. “When is your next mission on?”

“Nothing happened.” There is a strange nervousness in Uncle Alex eyes. “I would have told you otherwise.”

“Shut up!” snarls Daddy. “That bearded man from yesterday, Cassie dear, did he bother you?”

“Who?”

“Frecking Lor San Tekka.”

Hearing that name, I cannot help to beam. Because it makes me happy. I cannot even say why. “Erm, we hardly spoke because he was with a friend of his.”

Daddy narrows his eyes. “And what did you speak of?”

“Xer, the pirate.”

“Why?”

I frown. “Because the largest part of the exhibition was about Xer.”

“And that is all?”

Now I raise, too. “Why are so so afraid when I talk to people, Daddy? It not like Master Lor did something improper.”

Daddy keeps scanning me like a complicated space anomaly.

“Not everybody wants to hurt me like your neighbour Draven.”

“And that freak is not right in the head,” agrees Max.

Daddy seems thunderstruck.

A strange sound comes from the far end of the table. It's Gramps.

“Master Agrippa would like to tell you something, Master Orson,” translates Jay.

“What?” Daddy barks.

“Being a father means putting a lot of trust into a child.”

“Oh really?”

Not at least offended, the droid moves on, “Master Agrippa is glad to see you so attached to Mistress Cassandra. But he advices you to relax more. Otherwise you get a stroke before she even has reached her teenage years. You are no good to her disabled.”

********************************************************************

The Crystal Canyons possess a beauty that comes straight from another realm. A place where time, length, width, height, depth, and breadth do not matter. It's like walking a fairy castle.

The Fae folk, as they are called in the legends, myths and fairytales, prefer to be away from technology and civilization. Rather, they visit areas that are filled with nature, places like these canyons, which seem to be carved out of light and shadows only.

I would like to ask Daddy if his kyber crystals are equally beautiful, but then again he is not allowed to talk about his daily work. Everything he does happens in the best interest of our beloved Empire and is described as 'classified'.

Walking the small visitor's path that is winding through the canyons is very exciting. Mostly for poor Daddy, who fears for my safety. There are sections which have no security fence. And so he holds me by his shoulders. I feel like a small bird being tucked under the huge wings of his parents.

Inside my head I ask myself if Lord Vader or Mitth'raw'nuruodo would be equally worried. But then again, they are just friends. They are not the person who has to raise me.

And so I do not fuss, letting Daddy have the skin contact and control that he needs. I even dare to close my eyes now and again. This way I can better listen to the song of the crystals.

I dare not tell anybody that they sing for me. Due to the Jedi it seems to be unfortunate to be Force-sensitive nowadays. Only my dark prince seems to handle that touchy subject with acceptance. But he talks too much about revenge and much darker things. As if he cannot see the light, or for whatever personal reasons, chooses to ignore its very existence.

To me, the Force is a symbiosis of good and bad, of light and darkness. It is a mirror of the universe and the creatures that live in it. None of us is without flaws. I am fully aware of it. Each day we choose how to act out. Sometimes those choices become our character.

********************************************************************

Gramps is already in bed when we come back from our day trip. But I feel the urge to see him anyway and kiss him good-night in his chambers. Ignoring Daddy and Jay alike, I storm up the staircase.

Old watery eyes gaze at me in love and absolute trust.

I plop down on his mattress, taking one of his wrinkly hands. “It was so amazing, Gramps. The canyons are so pretty. And those crystals, they sang for me. Such an ancient song from the beginning of the universe.”

While I chat on, barely using a pause, I have his gaze resting on me continuously. It's not his condition doing us. He is listening intently. His body might have its limits. His mind certainly doesn't.

“You do believe in the Force as much as I do, don't you?”

I pick up his hand and lead it straight to my mouth. My kiss brings even more life into his eyes.

“Daddy is still mad with you about that. Actually, he tries to convince me that you and Gran were part of a Jedi-hugging sect. Ah well, he has such weird opinions at times. It really makes my toenails curl up. Of course I love him, but he can be so exhausting when he feels he is right and everybody else is not.”

I glide off from the mattress, letting go of his hand again.

Only then do I see it: a bulky sketch book, being bound together with a pink ribbon like a girl would wear it in her hair. It lies right under the night table and I probably would not have noticed it if I had sat on the bed in another angle.

I bend down for the sketch book, almost sliding from the mattress.

A metal hand squeezes my right shoulder very softly. “Pardon me, Mistress Cassandra, but it is sleeping time for Master Agrippa now.”

“I was on my way out,” I lie.

“Hopefully not without this valuable data here.”

“Oh?” I wheeze.

“My master received this sketch book from his next-door-neighbour, Mistress Gita. It once belonged to one of her foster children, who was very interested in folklore.”

“Folklore?” I repeat.

“Legends and myths about the Jedi knights and their greatest nemesis, the Sith.”

The geriatric droid unit has my full attention now. Not only because I like gruesome stories with a nasty twist now and again. Something tells me, that it is essential for me to get hold of those pages.

“The community blames the destruction of the apple orchard for the master's stroke. But that's not what happened. It was something he read inside this book that almost fried his brain.”

Doubtfully, I gaze at the unspectacular cover. But then again, it's just a cover. And it gives no clue to the knowledge hidden on the pages.

“I do not know why Master Agrippa is so desperate for you to have this collection of unfortunate events, but he made it perfectly clear to me that he will not have 'no' for an answer. My programming wants me to do him this favour, unless it gets rewritten.”

My mouth is dry when I ask, “This sketch book. Is it by any chance from Daddy's special love interest Ina?”

Gramps makes a curious noise, which Jay translate into, “Master Orson and Mistress Nagina were more like brother and sister. But in very unhealthy ways. He was obsessed with her. When he turned into an influential scion of Sheev Palpatine...”

I raise a hand. “Wait a second here! Our beloved Emperor once favoured Daddy?”

“That is classified territory, Mistress Cassandra.”

I feel like shaking the droid, but I keep a lid on my anger. Daddy has taught me to act like a lady, like an officer's daughter. “It's just, he so often complains that his work is not recognized. That he is left out.”

To that Gramps sniffs and his geriatric aid also forms that sound into a little speech. “Master Orson had it coming. If you want to play out in the yard with the big boys, do not count on their fairness.”

Another sound comes from the depth of Gramp's throat.

“Besides, the dark side of the Force is an unkind mistress.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Daddy is not into the dark side. He is not even into the Force.”

Jay's fingers close around my right shoulder blade. “The temptation of power, forbidden knowledge, even the desire to do good can lead down the path of the dark side.”

I frown at him.

Sometimes I have the vague feeling that the Force is with that droid. But then again, can it truly touch the circuits of a machine?

Guilt kicks in immediately. Thoughts like that come close to anti-droid prejudice. Jay is a valuable family member. Why shouldn't he be conscious? Perhaps the Force has touched his robot brain in miraculous ways. Who am I to judge?

My eyes suddenly narrow, because a queer idea represents itself to me. “What exactly are you both trying to charge Daddy with?”

“Read the records of Mistress Nagina!” Jay lets go of me again. “All will represent itself to you in given time.”

********************************************************************

The following three nights I get little sleep and therefore I am cranky and, let's face it, a bit unfair to everybody else around me. Especially to Zevulon. But the more I read, the more I want to know about the ways of the Jedi and the Sith. Their views on the Force seem to be the total opposite. But in the end, their beliefs have the same roots. They are so busy fighting one another that even the wisest among them do not see that truth. Like Yin and Yang, they dance an eternal dance performed in shades of black and white only.

There is a disturbing part though. The violation of kyber crystals. Daddy is accused of it more or less indirectly. It also appears to me that his space station is but a monstrous Sith weapon to destroy everything in its way.

Perhaps I am a coward. It could even be that I love him too much to seek out the truth any further. But I am six years old and I want to believe in Daddy. No matter what those pages or Mistress Nagina herself say. I pray that my love is a forgiveable crime.

One night later, I do contact Lord Vader about my adventures in the Crystal Canyons. He is more quiet than usual. And that is not due to Boomer snoring next to me on my pillow. When he finally decides to speak up again, his voice has a thoughtful undertone.

“Apart from being highly empathic and perceptive, what else can you do, Cassandra?”

I must say that I do like the way he says my name. So full of meaning and purpose. Like I am a queen or empress. He makes me feel important. Plus he uses up a lot of patience when he has a conversation with me. Normally, he has a huge shortage of that. Around me he acts like a true grown-up and not like a little boy with a tantrum. He can be so majestic, when he masters his feelings.

“Well, I am waiting,” he reminds me. “Not that the Emperor expects me to be on important missions for him any time soon.”

I giggle a bit, fondling the subspace transceiver like a pretty doll. “You want the truth and not a lame answer, right? So I simply try to wrap my words up nicely.”

“Then get done with it,” he suggests dryly. “I have to restore peace and order in this galaxy.”

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at him, but he cannot see that on far away Coruscant. It would be pretty pointless. “Would it impress you that I can bond with animals?”

“To impress me usually takes a bit more.”

Grumbling, I pick up the old scratch book that I basically stumbled over when kissing Gramps good-night earlier on. “Okay, I have a list here.”

Calling it thus is not exactly the right term. It's more collection of Jedi and Sith wisdom. The latter seem to be something like fallen Jedi knight.

“How can you have a list ready at hand before I am even asking you a question, Cassandra?”

“Beats me.” I shrug my shoulders, clutching on to my treasure. “That happens quite often to me.”

“Knowing things before they happen?” the dark prince probes.

“I call it 'gut feelings'.”

There is a pause. A brief one, but significant any way. “I have none left.”

“Guts?”

“A Jedi once mutilated me beyond recognition. Left me to die at the shores of a lava river.”

My heart is overflowing with pity. “That sounds very nasty.”

“You have no idea, Cassandra.”

I sigh. “But your hate saved you, right? Made you powerful beyond means.”

“Yes,” comes the crisp feedback.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Sion, the Lord of Pain?”

“No?” he answers, uncertainty, excitement and awe woven into this one word.

_“I thought not. It's not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend.”_

For a moment I think Lord Vader is gone, but then he snaps, “Are you seeing things since you were in those canyons? Are there, by chance, voices in your head?”

Now I am sulking. “You make it sound like I am some kind of crazy person.”

My list of Force powers has to wait for another occasion anyway.

“You do not really need me to tell you that you are gifted,” he reasons. “Pride does not become you.”

“Anyway,” I cut him short and stare at the creepy drawing, “Darth Sion is a marauder who lived in the time of the Old Sith Wars. He fought for somebody called Exar Kun. Instead of dying on the battlefield one day, he called on his negative feelings and channelled them.”

“And what happened next?” he asks back eagerly, sounding more like Zevulon than a grown-up.

“He turned into a zombie.”

There is a strange sound. I identify it as strangled laughter.

“It pleases me that you can sound like a silly little girl after all.”

“Woah, excuse me!” I protest, jumping up from my bed. “You underestimate the Sith religion here.”

“Cassie?” asks Zevulon from the other side of the door.

“Not now!” I beg, sounding a bit softer now. “I am in the middle of something.”

“Are you having nightmares?” my friend asks.

“I am okay,” I assure him, hoping he does not hear Lord Vader's breath as loud as I can.

“If you are still shouting and continuing to talk to yourself, I will get Jay to ram down that bedroom door.”

Sighing, I get up from my mattress, something that I had not been able to do a couple of weeks ago. I unlock the door and kiss the baffled Zevulon on his right cheek. “Go back to bed! I'll be there in a while.”

“In my bed?” he says, blinking.

“Why ever not?” I shrug. “We only have three nights left. Pyjama party non-stop, okay?”

********************************************************************

My dark prince is still there when I come back to sit on my mattress. Though he does not say anything, I can feel that he is alert and, most of all, eager for more. He does enjoy our conversations a lot. They are challenges for him, almost adventures into the unknown.

“Where were we?” I ask carefully.

“Darth Sion,” he mutters, not willing to get side-tracked by anything or anyone else this time.

“Immortality, at the cost of all-consuming agony,” I quote straight from memory. “With a body fractured and decomposing, but held together by the dark side.”

“You feel the need to stress the zombie part,” Lord Vader concludes.

Another passage from Mistress Nagina's sketch book comes to mind. _“Did you come here for answers? There are none. The call of Korriban is strong, but it is the call of the Dead.”_

There is a vicious hiss. “I am alive!”

The words form in my mouth as if the Force itself puts it there. _“To have fallen so far and learned nothing—that is your failing.”_

Many parsecs away from me an immense Force storm is forming, just to dissolve into amusement. “To be taught by a youngling like you. Who would have thought.”

I start feeling dizzy.

“Cassandra, what is the matter?” he demands to know sternly.

When I want to answer I taste blood on my lips. For some reason blood is dripping from my left nose hole.

“Cassandra, answer me!”

Sighing, I tell him about my sudden nose bleed.

He is not worried in the least, approaching the matter cool and logical. “The right hemisphere coordinates the left side of the body, and performs tasks that have do with creativity and the arts.”

Whatever conclusion he is about to make, I will not like it.

“Do you often have nose bleeds like that?”

That I can deny.

“What about headaches?”

“Now and again. Nothing serious. You suffer more on a daily basis.”

There is a woofing sound that causes Boomer to stir. “I am not the subject of my scrutiny. You are.”

I smirk and pick up the subspace transceiver. “If you would care more for yourself...”

“There is no need for you to linger in my present,” he interrupts me. “And you should better not dive into my past, child. Only our future counts. Let us work on that.”

With a mixture of horror and excitement I gaze at the sketch book next to me. Of the texts and drawings inside. Is this the shape of things to come?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	19. Chapter 19

When I finally say good-night to Lord Vader, I am way tired. I have to promise him to see my paediatrician about my occasional headaches. He also makes me swear to keep a low profile with my special Force gifts. As if Daddy or Uncle Alex would allow me to be a show-off. Besides, it is not in my nature. I am rather part of the Force flow than taking the reins.

Picking up my pillow, I tiptoe out of the room without waking my Corellian hound.

In order to come to Zevulon's room, which is Daddy's former childhood bedroom, I need to sneak past the master bedroom in which his parents sleep. But on my way, I hear strange sounds from the ground floor. I am not sure whether it is laughter or shouting.

On naked feet, I tiptoe downstairs. The wooden stairs are smooth.

Daddy and Uncle Alex are in the kitchen, having an argument. But something is different.

I hold my breath and drop my pillow.

They are not alone. Without doubt I can hear a third human voice in their midst. It's male.

“Project 'Blackwing' is active and this is no joke.”

I shudder, because Mistress Nagina mentioned that very project in her sketch book. Therefore I know what it is about. I still wish I would not.

The stranger moves on, somewhat miffed, “No matter how hard you laugh, Alexandr.”

“This is just obscene, you know!”

My godfather has no clue how dark Sith alchemy is. It has no soul, no mercy.

“I have no access to the data files any more, but I know what I have seen. The evidence is overwhelming.”

I press a shivering hand against my mouth.

The Dead have indeed learned how to walk again.

“No!” I correct myself softly. “The Undead.”

Suddenly, I feel very, very cold and miserable. I lean my brow against the kitchen door.

Then I hear my most favourite voice in the universe. “Even if that is the case, Harus. Why would you come all the way to Chandrila to tell us?” Daddy gives to consider in a cool tone of voice. “You have just been promoted into the Ubiqtorate. This is way up now. We are at the bottom of the food chain though.”

“I owe Alexandr,” comes the brisk answer. “And right now he happens to be with you, Orson. The two of you seem to be inseparable since a couple of months.”

“His daughter became my godchild,” snaps Uncle Alex.

“Right.”

“Oh ye of little faith!” Daddy's voice is like a velvet ribbon, telling me how pissed off he is. “Why don't we all go down-town and put your assumptions to the test, Harus?”

“You mean we are off to that charming little night club near Eleutherian Plaza?”

“You two go ahead, Orson. I have to start early tomorrow morning and would rather stay here. With Cassie and our guests.”

“See you, loser!” Daddy laughs.

“Greet Bethany from me though!”

“She won't even remember you after a night with a real man like me.”

“Dream on, Orry!”

Some heartbeats later I can hear the back door close.

There is silence for a while.

I press closer against the wood of the kitchen door. What is Uncle Alex doing in there? Sulking? Eating? Finishing off my blue milk? He possibly couldn't. That would be mean.

_“Shun!”_ a too familiar voice barks.

Shock pulses through me.

“Eavesdropping, are we?” my godfather says in a much more quiet tone of voice.

I hang my head. “Didn't mean to.”

“Well, you did anyway. Choices.” He puts his hands on my shoulders. “Of late you develop a nasty streak, sweetie. I am not sure whether to like it or not.”

With slightly heated cheeks, I gaze up, but since the hall is bathed in twilight there is not much to see apart from his outlines. “You told me to be tougher.”

“Tougher, indeed. But I was talking about being resilient and not being sneaky with me and your poor old father.”

“Come on. He is thirty-seven.”

Warm chuckles fill the air. “Seven years older than me.”

“I thought nine,” I complain. “Is your true birthday classified, too?”

“Most of my conversations with others are. And you, young lady, just happened to have overheard one with my former ISB deputy director. A man who is so secretive that almost nothing is known about his childhood or his career.”

I gulp because Uncle Alex starts massaging my stiff shoulders. “Are you going to kill me now?”

“It depends how much you have overheard.”

I shift from one foot to the other.

“Stop prancing around like a crazy eopie foal!” he admonishes me tenderly. “I mean, how bad can it be?”

“Project 'Blackwing' is active?” I get out.

“Um… you should forget about your midnight date with Zev. Pick up that pillow of yours and follow me to the barn!”

I do as I am told.

“At least you follow orders.” My godfather sounds relieved. “There is a streak of hope here. You do not qualify as a rebel… yet.”

********************************************************************

Uncle Alex has placed me right before him on the haystack, where he made his bed for the night. I am nicely enclosed in his army sleeping bag, that he refers to as a 'fart sack'. There is no talking at all. Not for about ten minutes. He only looks at me with keen eyes, his face is blank.

Somehow I ended up on the wrong side of his scrutiny. If I would be one of the rebel traitors, the very scum that hate our beloved Emperor, my fate would be very bleak. Imperial justice does not make any difference between children and grown-ups. That I have secretly learned since we came to Chandrila.

“Fire away!” I suggest, just to look straight at his J-19 bo-rifle all of a sudden.

“Military secrets and terms are no laughing stock!” my godfather says matter-of-fact and I can hear how hostile his undertone is. “I want you to forget what you think you have heard tonight.”

“Because it is highly classified?”

He raises an eyebrow. To crack him open like one of those areca nuts that Daddy occasionally brings me from Scarif is no option. A trained ISB agent like him is unbreakable.

“Let us sum this up, shall we?” I smirk. “You abduct me from the house, threaten me with a weapon and now you...”

He sighs and secures his weapon again. The greatest showman really. “I have business to attend to on Lothal. This is my last night with you. I want no fuss.”

I bite my lip. “And you do not want me to know about any of your secrets either.”

“If they only were my secrets, sweetie. Here are higher things at stake.” Something forlorn shows up in his handsome face that is framed by his cute side-burns. “I once knew a lady who knew to many secrets from somebody on top of the circus.”

Not to roll my eyes is difficult. “If you say Mistress Nagina now, I will throw up.”

He looks stricken. “Why would you mention her?”

That question makes me jump up. I almost tumble over in that stupid sleeping bag. “Because she is the clue to all of this, isn't she?” I am torn between fatigue, anger and upset. “The more I think of it, our entire trip seems to be about her.”

“No!”

His voice is sharper than Daddy's favourite kitchen knife. It would suit me to shut up now.

“The reason why we are here is not Nagina. This is all about your father loving you more than words could possibly explain. He is not a simple man. But his actions speak for themselves. For you he went back to his roots, let you have a glimpse into his childhood days. Not that they were that perfect. But because you are his since he rescued you from Level 2685.”

There is a significant pause.

“Family bonds are important for a child to develop, to evolve. Your father has realized that ever since unknown dangers appeared on the Dejarik board. This is why he brought you here to this humble apple farm. Even if this meant for him making peace with his own father.”

I am deeply touched by this speech, but something tells me that this is not the entire picture. “Can we hug now?”

“You think it's safe?” Uncle Alex ponders.

He is confusing me.

“What if I am a brain eating zombie?”

“No, you couldn't be,” I laugh. “You do not carry 'the sickness' in you. Your movements would be much slower and your skin would be greyish-green, oh...”

“Oh?” he breathes. Too soft, too mild.

It has been a trap all along. And I ran straight into it. I am such a silly bantha cow.

“Sweetie.” This tender address adds to my undoing. “If this was a sabacc game, I would force you now to reveal your marked cards.”

********************************************************************

Of course Uncle Alex has mercy on me, for he loves me very much. But there is a punishment after all. I have to destroy that beautiful sketch book of Mistress Nagina. And she has put almost a lifetime of work into it.

My fingers tremble very much when I use my godfather's lighter. I almost burn myself, but he comes to stand behind me and assists me. His hands are so calm, so skilled. As if he is used to put the universe on fire.

While the flames eat up all the gathered knowledge, tears prickle my eyes. It is a waste really. And even worse it's pointless for I have stored all the content in my brain forever more.

“There is no need to cry, Sweetie,” Uncle Alex says ever so tenderly, which makes the situation even worse for me. If he just could be is harsh and unforgivable military self. But this is the private him doing that. “Those pages contained things that never should have seen daylight.”

“But the Sith are a fact,” I protest, my heart beating hard and fierce. “Mistress Nagina even suggested that her own uncle is one.”

My godfather huffs like some kind of Kyat dragon. “A Naboo fisherman? Pretty dangerous for the benefit of the Empire, if you ask me.”

He starts making me angry by twisting the facts. “But Nagina was born in the days of the Republic.”

“So was I and your father, too.” He pats my head in a way that I find almost patronizing. “Big deal.”

Somehow he tries to divert me, to take my mind off things that really matter. I raise my chin up high. “And if Nagina had an uncle on Naboo, why was she brought all the way here to Chandrila?”

“Child protective services are always a nuisance, Sweetie. Even in the Outer Rim.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Anyway, it is close to midnight. Let us extinguish this fire and go to sleep.”

He is too eager and at the same time too dismissive. But then again, must I really know everything? Mistress Nagina is dead, obviously a casualty of the Clone Wars. That uncle of hers must long be gone, too. Even if he was more than an ordinary fisherman. Uncle Alex was pretty quick mentioning his occupation. I suppose that man has rather been an administrative aid who followed Sheev Palpatine to Coruscant. For where else would a Sith lord go to cast a shadow? Politics is a dirty business. Daddy complains about the Imperial Senate all the time. Especially about a woman called Mon Mothma and another politician named Bail Prestor Organa.

Taking one last look at the glowing ash I say with a hushed, almost subdued voice, “Is Daddy really having fun with a lady while we speak?”

My godfather ruffles my hair. “You are full of questions tonight. I am sure that I have some soporific agents somewhere in my tool box.”

“It's okay that he enjoys himself.” I beam, giving my best not to sulk. If I want then I can sound very convincing. “I caught the gazes that Max gives his wife each time at the dinner table. Plus I heard some strange noises from the master bedroom.”

My godfather sighs half-heartedly. “It was a mistake bringing you and Zev into the house again. The tent was nice.”

“But after all those unannounced visitors on this property, Daddy was against it.”

********************************************************************

Daddy joins us on our hay stack in the grey hours of morning. As far as I can tell in the twilight, he is in his civvies. He does that each time he meets a lady. 'Private affairs' he calls those rare meetings. His Imperial uniform stays on a hanger in his wardrobe then.

“Hi!” I beam, enjoying the musky scent of his aftershave.

“Sleep on!” he whispers, when he slides his arms around me.

While I nestle my head against his chest, he turns us around so that we both face the ceiling.

A great shudder of relaxation goes through him. “I love a sweet home-coming like that,” he whispers.

“Shut up, Orry!” curses Uncle Alex mildly. “Or I will have your own Death Troupers have you shut down.”

I cannot help it. The question burns in my mind. “Why are the Death Troupers called Death Troupers?” I blurt out. “Is it a cover-up for 'the sickness'?

Daddy is so quickly on his feet that I almost lose my balance. “Alex!” he thunders.

“This is not my fault!” My godfather is on the defence immediately. “You can thank Nagina for it.”

“What?” comes the flabbergasted answer.

“Her Ladyship obviously had some sort of sketchbook with all her favourite subjects in it.”

There is an eerie silence that scares me.

“If you'd excuse me,” Daddy suddenly grits out. “Active euthanasia is needed.”  
“You will do nothing of that kind,” replies my godfather. “Despite what happened in the past, he is your daughter's grandfather. You made him that by coming here.”

Daddy stares ahead of him in the cold light of morning. Finally, he pipes up, “How bad is it this time?”

“Very,” admits my godfather.

“Military secrets?”

“Yup.”

“Religious gibberish?”

“Of course. This is Nagina we are talking about.”

Ever so slowly, Daddy's shoulders slump. Then he hides his face between both hands. He turns away from us. “This is not how I imagined our first holidays together. The past keeps haunting me.”

“Then don't let it!” suggests Uncle Alex. “As far as I can tell you have a good, obedient daughter.”

Daddy's hands sink down and reveal an ugly smirk on his lips. “Are you sure we are talking about the same girl?”

“I can hear you!” I sulk.

“Hopefully, you can.” Daddy is at my side in no time, framing my face with both hands. His palms seem to be on fire. “I loved Ina more than my own life, but she never listened to me. She was daft to my reasoning, wanted things only her complicated way.”

I have a bright smile for him. “She was not an officer's daughter like me, right?”

Perplexed, Daddy gazes at me, his blue eyes wide in bewilderment. “Er, no?” And then he adds. “She did not even know who her father was.”

“That means her mom showed less responsibility than mine?”

He blinks several times. “Naboo might call themselves human, but practically they are a race of their own,” he slowly admits. “With strange traditions.”

“Anyway,” I try to stay on track. “There was no father to teach her wrong from right. Only that uncle of hers.”

Now Daddy looks somewhat startled. “What do you know about him?”

“That he obviously did no great job.” I wiggle my nose. “But you do and Uncle Alex as well. Yes, I might know about military secrets like 'Operation Blackwing' but whom should I speak to about it? Zev? Certainly not. Not because I do not trust him. Because those secrets are not mine to pass on. They are property of His Imperial Majesty. We, his loyal servants, owe him.”

Something like relief shows up in Daddy's features. “So you will forget all about the things you have read?”

“I have to. Otherwise you and Uncle Alex are very upset with me. It would reflect badly on you as officers of our beloved Empire.” I mean every world that I say. “When I have learned something from Conny, then it is that a woman has to be a source of trust, encouragement and confidentiality within a military household. Otherwise it reflects badly on...”

A rather stormy embrace basically chokes my flow of words. “I love you so much,” Daddy sighs.

********************************************************************

At the _brekkie_ table the Veers family has bad news for us, especially for me. “The holiday break is over,” announces Zevulon's father during his second mug of caf. “We need to fly back to Coruscant today.”

My throat feels clogged and I am inexplicably close to tears. “This is not fair!” I yelp, causing my Corellian hound to howl in sympathy underneath my chair.

“There is something called compulsory school attendance for all children, sweetie,” Uncle Alex throws in. There are dark rings under his eyes due to last night's events. “Just because you are exempt, does not mean your buddy here is, too.”

In my lap, my hands turn into shivering fists. I don't want to be the exception from the general Imperial rules, the odd one out. “Why can't I be a normal child, attending a public school?” I voice.

“Hey, we live on the same planet, right?” My best friend, seated opposite to me, grins widely. His eyes are bright with plans for us. “Of course we will see each other. I could visit you straight after classes each day. Right?”

Conny looks genuinely sorry. “Fact is, you might not have as much time together as you think, children,” she says. “Max has an upcoming assignment on Corellia.”

“What?”

There is panic all over Zevulon's handsome face, making him look like a mooka pup. He even makes the same kshhhing sound, which causes Boomer to bark excitedly under the table. The puppy obviously expects the company of another animal.

“Sorry about that, son.” Despite his harsh military training Max looks slightly flustered. “But an order is an order. And our duty is to serve the Emperor's will.”

“You can't do that to me.” In front of my worried eyes, the boy basically falls apart. “There is nothing there on Corellia. Neither for mother nor for me. It is just a dump hole like… like... Tatooine. Or... or like that little moon in the middle of nowhere. What's its name again?”

“Endor,” his father helps out somewhat grimly, while Daddy almost chokes on his spoon full of muesli.

Zevulon makes a wry face. “That moon had at least forest grounds on it and those funny bears.”

“Ewoks,” confirms Max.

I smile because my friend Mitth'raw'nuruodo has mentioned them to me during our first meeting.

“You walker crew liked to shoot at them with their canons. Just to stock up their scarce food rations with fried meat much later on.”

My smile freezes, while Uncle Alex enthusiastically exclaims, “Ewok jerky! Yummy! Excellent stuff!”

But my friend does not notice my distress. His own is too great. “Seriously, dad? Corellia? It reeks of fish and criminal scum like that White Worms gang.”

“An order is an order,” Max raises with the speed of a hostile missile. “No questions asked.”

There is a stubborn line around Zevulon's mouth. “If people would ask more questions within the Empire than things would be much, much better.”

“Go into your room!” orders the Special Forces man. “Now!”

“This is Master Agrippa's home. Only he can send me…”

A hard slap in the face silences the boy immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


	20. Chapter 20

To say that I am heartbroken is an absolute understatement. But even Daddy cannot interfere with the educational methods of the head of the Veers family. Until departure Zevulon will remain grounded upstairs.

With tears in my eyes, I stand at the foot of the stairs and cling on to the balustrade. I feel helpless and frustrated. My brain keeps spinning in uneven circles.

“Come here, little soldier!” Daddy suggests in a sweet tone of voice.

His compassion makes it even worse. I start to shake and shiver like a grass seed in the wind. Snot running out of my nose. “N-n-not f-f-air!” I state.

“The universe cannot be fair twenty-three hundred hours all the time.”

I sniff, bereft of words.

“I have an offer for you though. One you will not be able to resist.” In slow motion Daddy sinks down on his knees. “Give us a hug, will you?”

I try to stay strong.

His arms open wide like the wings of a bulabird taking flight. “Please?”

My defiance cracks by his last word. I flee into his embrace.

Daddy runs his fingers over my back in a slow, pleasing rhythm. “Your Zev had it coming.” His voice is firm. Imperious even. “A good soldier has to know when to zip it up. Especially around a superior.”

I want to throw in that my friend is not a soldier yet, but a child. That I am still a child. But the survivors of the Clone Wars, Daddy being just one of them, have a different view on life altogether. There is nothing what I can do against it. And so I let him hold me, comfort me.

********************************************************************

When Max passes us, he is busy adjusting his officer waist belt. His eyes widen when he takes notice of us. His embarrassment grows when Daddy comments, “This is not Prefsbelt Fleet Camp or the Junior Academy on Eriadu, but my old man's home. Just as your son said earlier on.”

The other man wipes some sweat pearls off his brow. As if he just had been busy with hard physical labour. “Sorry for so much drama, Orson!”

Daddy harrumphs, but then manages to state in more understandable basic, “Move along, please! I am busy with crisis intervention here! Female hearts are easily crushed.”

“I didn't mean…,” the Special Forces man tries to defend himself, but gets interrupted straight away.

“You might know a lot about your walkers, but this is definitely my territory! My daughter!”

“Right,” snaps Max and hurries to join the other grown-ups in the kitchen.

For some heartbeats, Daddy remains motionless, his lips sealed. Through my hiccups I can hear his strained breath.

Then he lets go of me but continues kneeling. “What I want you to learn is to obey when it is necessary. Of course some orders seem ridiculous at times.” His voice has taken on a different timbre now. “Quick thinking and disregard of a direct order at Colroon III once gave Max a promotion to major. But it also might have caused Cornelia to stay unmarried.”

I try to follow his hyperlane of thoughts, but the trapped Zevulon makes quite a tantrum in his upstairs bedroom.

“Forget about him for a second! Just listen to me, Cassandra! It is of the greatest importance.”

There is banging and more shouting from upstairs.

“May I have your attention?”

In a haze, I nod, even though Conny runs past us and starts to descant the stairs. She is crying. “I will not have it, Max!” she calls over her shoulder. “The right of corporal punishment should be over and done with. Like the war with the Separatists. It is wrong.”

I so agree with her.

Daddy waits until she is out of sight and actually hearing range again. Only then he says, “There might come a day when I tell you to run. And no questions asked.”

There is a movement behind us.

Fraternally, Uncle Alex places his hands on Daddy's shoulders. “Orson, we should return to the kitchen.”

“We need to prepare her for the Code Red scenario, Alex.”

My godfather sucks in his breath, a sharp inhalation overly loud in the hall. “You are taking this all too serious.”

Daddy's head jerks up and he looks grim. “You have not been at the autopsy. I was there. Inside the kindie building. This will not happen to Cassandra.”

I do not like where this is going. “Daddy, in war people die all the time. But we are not at war.”

“Is that so?” he spits out, his face a mask of contempt all of a sudden. “Tell that to Saw Gerrera and his cutthroats. They will not stop their bloody campaigns! Campaigns that even get the innocent killed. Like my Ina.”

I start to shiver, feeling cold all of a sudden.

Daddy is not finished ranting yet. “Or take Cham Syndulla!”

“Seriously?” my godfather comments. “You bring him up? Now?”

“He was bold enough to try to execute the Emperor and Lord Vader six months ago.”

That news comes to me as a shock. Both men, our beloved ruler and my dark prince, always seemed invincible to me. Until now.

“Orson!” warns my godfather.

“This universe is not all pink and fluffy!” There is anger in Daddy's eyes, giving them the colour of rain clouds. “Max is right to be hard to the boy.”

I bite my underlip so hard that I draw blood. But I must not, will not speak up against the man who raises me as his own.

“Orders need to be obeyed, not commented. And you, Cassandra, will learn that in one way or the other.”

A tiny blood drop runs over my chin, feeling somewhat ticklish on my skin.

“Great, she hurt herself!” Uncle Alex curses.

I let him mollycoddle me while pressing his handkerchief against the small wound.

Daddy keeps staring at me like I am a construction error that needs to be corrected by all means. “Public school is out of question for you. But you will get the best teachers from me, no matter what it costs me. As long as you manage to stay alive...”

“Give it a break!” my godfather cuts in, his patience completely used up.

I am swept off my feet and find myself dangling from my godfather's back.

“Where do you think you are going with her?” Daddy barks after us.

“Cassie here did not even finish breakfast. And you throw all that _poodoo_ in her face.”

********************************************************************

Hours later, I gaze out into space, flattening my nose against the glass of the cockpit of the T-3c shuttle. Out there it looks exactly how I feel inside.

Our goodbye from the Veers family has been rushed from both sides. And packing our stuff in for our return to Coruscant had been even quicker.

At least I have been given the promise to be able to see Gramps and Jay for the New Year Fete again. That festival will last an entire week and if I am training hard with several laser blasters, I get extra days on Chandrila.

“Are you okay?” Uncle Alex enquires, while he sits at the controls.

I nod, but not with great eagerness.

“You are the co-pilot. I need you to stay put. Just in case I black out, you know?”

Despite his funny plea, I close my eyes. But that does not blot out the angry voice in the background.

“You _reckon_? The greater danger is that I will explode right in your face, if you do not manage to meet that deadline, Galen. This is ridiculous!”

This is actually a dialogue, but I cannot hear the answers. They are by far too soft.

“Oh, I am _flat out like a Falleen drinking_. No way! You _carry on like a nerf shop_!”

My godfather slaps his head. “I hate when your father does that. No reasonable Coruscanti would talk such gibberish! Promise me to never pick up the West Country accent.”

Seated in the sparse crew cabin with its simple crash seats and storage straps, Daddy has this nasty conversation with Galen Erso. One I would like to blend out altogether.

My headache is extreme by now. So extreme, that I start to get double vision.

I keep pressing my brow against the thick glass, hoping that it will bring some cooling. They pumped so much medicine in my system during my stay in the hospital six months ago, that I feel uncomfortable by the thought of taking a headache remedy. This is why I am not asking. Why I suffer in silence.

“The ship is optimized for stealth, but not for comfort travel.” Uncle Alex is slightly nervous. “If you should feel sick in any way, please let me know before the remains of your breakfast are all over the place.”

There is a yelp from my lap.

“I was not talking to you, hound,” my godfather smiles down at my Corellian hound.

If anybody is more distressed than me at present, it is poor Boomer. This is certainly not his first time in space. But I am sure that he never had to face the full wrath of an engineer who is not overly happy with a project. Leave alone with an underling.

“Hey, it's okay!” I assure my pet and start to endear it.

“Glad you found your voice back, sweetie!” Uncle Alex beams.

A lamp blinks at the keyboard.

“What now?” he curses.

“It's an incoming message from Eadu,” Daddy looms in the door way like a veermok ready to kill everything in its path. “Ignore it!”

********************************************************************

The stormy weather on Eadu fits Daddy's unbelievably bad mood. The moment we are out of the ship, the three of us are wet up to the underpants. To wear Daddy's rain gear – a military poncho and the green cap – does not help with all the wind tugging at me.

“Please do not blow off the platform, sweetie!” Uncle Alex begs while he carries me towards the building that is as grey as the weather beaten mountain landscape around us.

“I am trying!” I yelp, while I cling on to my godfather. His fleximetal cuirass is unusually slick due to the rain.

Boomer is better off in Daddy's arms, but he whines heartbreakingly. “Cry baby!” he gets admonished. “I should have gotten a rancor after all.”

“Your landlord would have loved that, Orson!” yells Uncle Alex into the rain shower. “I am sure of it.”

“Who needs to get notified when you die in action, Agent Kallus?”

“Jerk!”

“And this is certainly not 'Take Our Kids to Work Day'. I've checked before you ignored my order not to answer that frecking call.”

I stare into the rain, hoping their bickering does not continue.

The Force has mercy on us.

Moments later I get ushered into Daddy's office, but he does not stay on. Instead he marches on without letting go of my pet.

“Why did Daddy take Boomer with him?”

My question remains unanswered. With lips still twisted in annoyance my godfather places me down in a large swivel chair. The furniture faintly reminds me of my dark prince. In awe my finger tips wander over the black leather surface. I must say that I like the feeling of it.

“Well, let's improvise, shall we?” He takes an emergency kit from the office wall and opens it. “Just as I hoped. Bless the supply unit and the medical corps!”

Uncle Alex produces a long foil that glitters golden on one side and silver on the other one.

“It will do for now.”

********************************************************************

While my godfather is gone trying to find a dryer for my wet clothing, I remain behind. At least I am wrapped up in a thermal blanket, also known as a space blanket.

In slow motion I pull my legs up to my chest. This way my naked feet also can enjoy the spreading warmth.

I start looking around in the office, but there is nothing to see from clean surfaces. As if Daddy has been afraid to leave anything personal behind in this room. Another explanation also might be that he has no emotional ties to this place. So he cannot be bothered giving it a touch of character.

With nothing else to study, I concentrate on the blanket itself. It is made out of Mylar. Like the gas filled balloons that Mitth'raw'nuruodo brought me as a gift when I was ill a couple of days ago. I hope they are not deflated yet.

What amazes me that just ten days have passed since I saw my Chiss friend. My time on Chandrila was filled with so much action and people that it seemed much, much longer than that.

A loud sneeze escapes me, followed by some snot.

“Great!” I curse under my breath. “I am worse than Boomer.”

In search of a handkerchief I try to open a drawer, but just one is accessible for me. All the others are sealed.

“I hate classified stuff!” I complain while my right hand dives deep into the drawer.

There is no handkerchief, but some nostalgic paper and an even more nostalgic pencil.

Colourful crayons would have been great, but Daddy is not a child any more.

When I take the top sheet out, I spot some hearts on the sheet right underneath.

A big smile spreads over my face, even though it makes my hurt underlip stitch a bit. “Awww, Daddy!” I sigh happily.

In Aurebesh my name is written into all those hearts.

Turning the chair away from the desk, I hug the sheet against me.

Suddenly, the mechanical door opens.

“I am sorry to have ruined your day, Orson,” an unknown male voice says. “But you ask the impossible of me and the rest of the team. We really need to talk face to face.”

********************************************************************

Too scared to face the speaker I do not turn around. First of all I have no clue who he is, even though he sounds nice. Then talking to strangers has brought a lot of trouble unto me recently. But most important, I am stark naked under my space blanket. This is embarrassing.

“To contain dark matter quintessence is a dangerous side path. I am not even sure it is really needed, Orson.”

I know that I should cover my ears, but instead I hide my face between my hands. Yet while I do, the sheet spirals towards the floor. There is no way to stop it.

An uncomfortable silence turns the situation even more awkward.

“Cassie?” the speaker wonders.

I bite into one of my fists, my teeth leaving marks.

“I was not even aware that you were seeing somebody, Orson.”

This is but a great mess that I got myself in.

I do not moan inside my head. I scream.

“Good for you.” The man sucks in a lot of breath before adding, “I know that I do not have the right to ask you something private. But for the sake of old times, is she the reason, why you have a bad mood these days?”

I. Must. Not. Comment.

“Because she comes between you and your true fulfilment?” The man continues, setting my heart on fire even more. “The project we are both on?”

Just like that my fear is gone and in its place is the anger that Lord Vader asked me to embrace.

“Master Galen!”

Somewhat dramatically, I swing around.

The blanket decides to glide off my shoulders and to expose my naked chest. At least it is still covers the lower part of my body. This is so uncool! I am sure Zevulon would agree.

Irritated, I rant on, “You are the one who makes Daddy angry with your work attitude. He even had to come here today instead of bringing me straight home from our family holiday.”

Brown eyes stare at me in shock, then in bewilderment and finally in great sorrow. They belong to a pale, haggard man, who wears a uniform that looks more like a lab smock.

I should stop talking, but the words break out of me like hot lava does when spraying out of a volcano. “Due to you I have nothing to wear but this blanket. Everything is soaking wet. Everything!”

The eyes keep staring at me like I am some monster from the Unknown Region.

I puff up my cheeks and let the air escape very slowly. Then I say, “Do yourself a favour and forget that you ever set eyes on me!”

“Forget!” echoes Galen Erso. “How can I?”

There is no need to say the following, but perhaps it will prove to him how dire the situation is. I mean he is a scientist. Therefore he should be full of logic like my therapist, Doctor Robotham.

“Daddy should not see us together.”

The staring continues.

“I mean, he can be quite overprotective,” I explain the obvious. “And he has a very good reason to be.”

It does not come out as nice and smooth as it should, but if I cease talking now, I will lose my reasoning all together. It simply has to be.

“Somebody called Nail,... no that's not right.” I hit my own brow hard, making my already existing headache worse. “S-s-saw, yes Saw. Well, he has killed a lady friend of Daddy's five years ago. Her name was Nagina Samye and she was a kindergarten teacher.”

“Saw Gerrera?” the man wonders, torn between horror, and strange enough, hope.

“Yes, Saw Gerrera.” But I do not want to be held up by the right name's dropping. This one he needs to hear badly. “I am so very sorry he took your Jyn.”

His face is like water, the feelings on it changing ever so quickly. Finally, weariness wins and he croaks, “Who took my stardust?”

“Well, Saw Gerrera.”

As if this is not obvious, but perhaps Master Galen denies the truth to himself. Grown-ups are good at that. Especially Lord Vader.

The scientist frowns at me, repeating, “Saw Gerrera.”

If that name will fall once more, my shouting will be so immense that even the Imperial palace on Coruscant will crumble to dust.

I glare into the strained face and pity tugs at my heart. Perhaps I just should use simple words. I can clearly see that this man is not well. He is clearly overworked and lacks of sleep. Daddy has those days, too. Besides, what I have to say will make things even worse.

Knotting my fingers, I state, “Saw Gerrera kidnapped your Jyn from some kind of sewer. Right after shooting your wife in a corn field on Lam'hu. Daddy told me.”

There is a gurgling sound, rising from the depths of his throat. It takes me a while to identify it as laughter. But it is distorted.

Perhaps Master Galen is mad? This actually can happen to scientists and engineers at times. Also to architects. Daddy, for example, can be mad at times. But then again there is true lunacy. It comes with the touch of the dark side of the Force. There was this man called Momin. Mistress Nagina had mentioned him in her records.

But before I can ponder on the monstrosities that this particular Sith lord had created in the honour of the dark side, Daddy's office door opens again.

My right hand flies towards my mouth, covering its full length.

 

**Translation from the Chandrilan rural dialect into Basic:**

_kindie_ = kindergarten

_You reckon?_ = You think?

_flat out like a lizard drinking_ = to be really busy

_carry on like a nerf shop_ = behaving in a silly or stupid way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources:  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


End file.
